


Rusted Cage

by TCRegan



Series: Ascension of the Wolf [2]
Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Politics, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 34,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3361526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCRegan/pseuds/TCRegan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris finds himself traveling Thedas with Dorian, and learning how to cope with his developing feelings for him. </p>
<p>New information leads them into the heart of the Inquisition. With the growing threat of the Venatori on the rise, they must work together with the Inquisitor to stop a potentially devastating enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to Part Two! Thanks again to everyone who's been reading and sticking with. Really appreciate this. Updates on Part Two will likely happen faster than they did on Part One, as I work diligently to finish this massive tale and get it edited. On an editing note, I strive for continuity and I realize that the timeline is a little wonky to make everything fit, so I hope you'll forgive me that. The events of Asunder and Masked Empire (i.e. Pharamond's research, the civil war in Orlais, etc) are compressed a bit to around one year instead of over the course of the three years between DA2 and DAI. I think I covered my tracks well enough though. As always, concrit is welcome!
> 
> Enjoy!

"Alexius sends his best wishes, and Felix states that he's… apparently seeing a very nice young woman. A cousin of a friend of a friend or something. They met at a party," Dorian said, rubbing his eyes.

Fenris glanced over. Dorian leaned back against the wooden headboard of his bed, knees drawn up, forearms resting on them as he flipped through the letter they received that morning. They hadn't received many in the weeks following their departure, not often staying in one spot long enough for a postman to find them. Now they found themselves just outside Kirkwall in a disused fisherman's hut that stank of saltwater and seaweed. With the weather growing colder the hut was likely abandoned for the season. A nearby town, not large enough to be called a city, contained a grocer's and a post office, and they'd decided to stop for a time in order to figure out their next step.

A single candle burned on the nightstand between their beds which were made up of mattresses stuffed with hay and dressed with scratchy woolen blankets. Fenris thought Dorian would complain about their accommodations and was surprised when he said nothing other than to state how cold it was starting to get. The hut comprised only two rooms: an all-purpose area with an ice box (empty now), a table, and a beaten up sofa that had seen better days. The bedroom they currently occupied was just large enough to fit the two beds, and out back there was an enclosed privy and a water pump.

Fenris, who grew up in a similar house as Dorian, wasn't used to the inconveniences either. He was, however, used to discomfort, and the lumpy mattress hardly bothered him. When they started their journey they stayed at proper inns. Certain places in Tevinter and Nevarra gave Dorian free room and board simply because he was a member of House Pavus, showing off an amulet with his family crest. The novelty of such a thing wore off quickly however, and the further south and further east they went, the less he even bothered taking it out of his bag. They spent the money Alexius gave them on more modest accommodations and less lavish food, sometimes skipping meals altogether. Fenris wasn't sure what Dorian was trying to prove, what he hoped to accomplish. He also wasn't sure if it was his place to ask.

Dorian sighed, head falling back against the wall, letter crinkling in his hand. "What do you think we'll find in Kirkwall?"

Fenris shrugged, dragging a whetstone across one of his daggers carefully. He used it last to gut a small pig he caught for their supper. Thankfully that was all the action they saw so far. "A lot of scared and angry people who will be looking to blame any mage for their troubles."

Dorian looked over at him, smirking. "You're worried about me?"

Fenris glanced up. "Yes. The Circles have seceded. Mages are being branded apostates. Even if that wasn't the case, an Imperial mage outside of Tevinter always brings suspicion. We never stayed outside the country for long. There was only so much protection being a magister held. And you are no magister."

"I'm technically not even a Pavus anymore," Dorian said bitterly. "But you shouldn't worry."

Fenris grunted. "You carry a staff. That's enough for the templars here to arrest you."

Dorian laughed. "I'd like to see them try."

"I wouldn't."

"Maker's breath. If I'd known you would've been such a wet blanket, I'd have left you in Minrathous."

Fenris looked up, scowling, dropping the stone to his lap.

Dorian laughed. "The look on your face. All right, all right," he relented, hand up in surrender. He folded the letter back into its envelope and tucked it into his bag. "I'll be careful. Honestly, you're worse than Alexius. If he wasn't so against blood magic, I'd have said he supplanted his personality into your body somehow."

"I am supposed to be keeping you safe. A task which you seem to enjoy making more difficult every day." He picked up the whetstone and packed it away, inspecting the blade before sheathing it.

Dorian lifted the covers and settled down underneath them, wrapping an arm around his pillow, trying to get comfortable. "Face it. You enjoy it when I make your life more difficult. It would be so dreadfully boring without me. Attending parties with Alexius, looking after Felix and his new sweetheart. Helping them pick out just the right outfit for the next dinner with Erimond." He paused, making a face. "Having to deal with Erimond himself. Bleh. Surely you have to see that being with me, even in some rundown shack on the coast of the Waking Sea is preferable to all that."

Fenris laughed lightly, setting the dagger under his own pillow before lying down, pulling his blankets up. Dorian was making light, but Fenris knew he appreciated the company. There was a slight uncertainty hidden beneath the arrogance and bravado. "I could do without the smell of fish, though."

"Granted, it's not the height of luxury," Dorian agreed, blowing out the candle. "We'll go to the city tomorrow. I promise I'll be discreet-"

Fenris snorted.

"I resent that. I promise I'll be discreet," he repeated. "We'll make subtle inquiries as to what's happening in Orlais. I'd say we should've gone there first, but I'd rather not situate myself in the middle of a civil war."

"Not to mention how much the Orlesians would just love you," Fenris muttered. 

He peered through the darkness, watching Dorian. The last several weeks had been odd, though not unpleasant. He still hadn't forgotten the night Dorian kissed him and wondered if Dorian thought about it as well. They never talked about it, never brought it up. And why would they? Dorian apologized and there was no need to speak of it further, was there? Yet Fenris wondered what would happen if he asked about it. The more courageous and perhaps stupid part of him wondered what would happen if _he_ kissed Dorian now. But he wouldn't. Dorian trusted him, as Alexius did. He was there to fulfil a purpose to keep him safe and bring him home at the end of all this. Whatever 'this' was.

Dorian sighed. "I miss it."

"Of course you do. It's home."

"Do you?" Dorian asked, looking at him.

Fenris wasn't sure of Dorian could see him through the darkness. "I do. I miss the estate. My duties."

"I'm sorry to have pulled you away."

"I'm not saying that I regret this," Fenris added quickly. "I would have come, regardless… Alexius did give me a choice."

"And you chose to come with me. You must be mad."

"I enjoy your company." Fenris blushed as soon as the sentence left his mouth. He didn't wish to make Dorian uncomfortable, but traveling with him, staying with him in close quarters, it became harder not to focus on his feelings for him. He was no longer a slave, the last restraints of whatever was holding him back snapped with a single piece of paper signed by Alexius, proclaiming him as member of the Liberati class. What started as a tenuous attraction toward Dorian slowly developed into emotional attachment, and it was growing larger and more rapidly than it would have had he remained a slave. Freedom was a noble ideal, but he wasn't sure it suited him. It was terrifying.

"And I yours," Dorian said, smiling. He rolled over. "In the morning, we'll go into town for those apple tarts you like and I'll send a letter off to Alexius. We won't linger in Kirkwall."

"And after Kirkwall?" Fenris asked.

"Who knows? Perhaps Ferelden. What Alexius says about it, their king has a rather liberal view on mage rights. We should be safer there. I can't say we'll find much in the way of culture, though."

Fenris wanted to reach out across the small gap in the beds, to touch Dorian's bare shoulder. He didn't, wouldn't be able to explain his impulse. "I don't mind."

"I do wonder if what they say about it is all accurate. Fereldan dog-lords traipsing about the country with their primitive sticks and rocks as weapons, barely a step up from the barbarians they evolved from, flinging their own feces as a form of trade disputes."

"…I'd not heard the rumors."

Dorian laughed, then yawned. "I'm sure that's all they are. Wake me if you rise first. I want to try to scrub the stench of saltwater out of my hair before we get on the move again."

"Of course."

He fell silent, listening to Dorian's breathing even out and turned over, falling asleep thinking about their eventual return to Tevinter.


	2. Chapter 2

Kirkwall was a city of unrest. Finding an entrance that wasn't under heavy templar guard proved challenging, but they managed to slip in unnoticed. Dorian begrudgingly left his staff hidden just outside the walls, not wanting to draw undue attention. It would cut their visit short if he ended up in a jail cell, Fenris having to write to Alexius for help in getting him out. For his part, Fenris kept his hood up, cloak drawn tightly around himself. Elves were largely ignored in any city, but his markings always made him stick out.

"Well, I wasn't expecting to walk up to just anyone and demand answers, but I admit I'm not sure where to start," Dorian said, hands on his hips as he surveyed the streets.

Walking through the creatively named Hightown, Fenris saw the evidence of the destroyed chantry, the surrounding buildings that suffered. He wondered what the apostate used to cause such devastation, if Qunari gaatlok could have been the catalyst for it. He'd seen buildings leveled before with the powerful explosive. Though how would an apostate get their hands on it, when the Qunari coveted their secrets so carefully?

"You have to wonder about it," Dorian mused, looking over the city. "Come. We won't find answers here."

"Perhaps in a tavern," Fenris ventured. "Or…"

"Or?" Dorian pressed, leading the way down the steps into a much seedier part of the city.

While this section seemed largely untouched by the chantry's destruction, it was obviously the slums. Garbage littered the streets and despite the still early morning hour, a whore shouted at them as they passed, trying to get their attention. A tramp dressed in rags held out his hand as they walked by, swearing at them when they ignored him.

"Charming," Dorian commented distastefully.

"The alienage," Fenris said begrudgingly. He didn't want to go, but as an elf he might be able to speak to the others, to get information as to exactly what happened. If they could find the facts, they could write to Alexius and give him some insight, and maybe discover if the mage unrest and the Venatori were connected in any way.

"If you're willing. I admit I've never seen an elven alienage. I'm a bit intrigued."

"I have. In Antiva."

It was largely the reason why Fenris was so hesitant about going to Kirkwall's. Antiva's alienage was large, filthy, and packed to the brim with the poorest group of elves he'd ever seen. Danarius once allowed him an hour to himself when they visited the city and curiosity got the better of him. He left quickly after and decided never to go back to one again. It was both painful and frustrating, and at the time he considered himself lucky to have a master like Danarius to care for him. Now though, he understood why some would choose to live in a place like that rather than risk a harsh master. After all, living in abject poverty might be preferable to being bled regularly for rituals.

"The Crows regularly picked from the alienage," Fenris said, glancing around the market square. The slums of Kirkwall all looked the same, streets cut from the same tan stone of the quarry, same blood red iron doors. "Hm. Perhaps this way?" He led Dorian down a side street.

"Ah, I think we're being followed," Dorian whispered, taking Fenris by the arm.

"…And this alley is a dead end. Of course." He should have seen it. He also should have seen the three men behind them, noticed that they were being tailed, but he'd been preoccupied.

"Just give us your gold," the leader said. He was dressed in battered leathers, a hood pulled over his face, only his eyes visible. Two sharp daggers were in his hands, the other two with bows and arrows.

Fenris stepped in front of Dorian, pulling his sword from his back, holding it at the ready. "We have none."

"Honestly if we had gold, do you think we'd be down here?" Dorian asked, laughing. "Is this really the best Kirkwall has to offer as far as common thugs go?"

The leader turned his daggers in his hands while the other two nocked their arrows. "We'll kill you and take whatever's in your pockets then."

"Try it," Dorian said, nonchalantly raising a hand.

Fenris felt the magic in the air like static electricity pulling at his lyrium brands. A ball of whitish purple light formed in Dorian's palm; he saw it in his peripheral vision but did not take his eyes off the would-be muggers. The two archers immediately lowered their bows and backed away. The leader hesitated, but lowered his daggers as well.

"Fucking crazy mages," he spat, and they turned and fled.

Dorian closed his fist around the magic, sighing. "I almost wish they had tried something."

"And send the templars running? I could have easily killed all three without your involvement," Fenris said, sheathing his sword. "This isn't Tevinter."

Dorian raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I think I've figured that out from the stench alone."

"Next time, don't use your magic." Fenris winced, expecting some type of backlash for his impertinence, momentarily forgetting that he was no longer a slave. After all, if he was going to fulfill his promise to Alexius and keep Dorian safe, he needed to be firm with him. Throwing magic around, especially in this city, would surely get them caught or killed.

"You're worse than Felix."

"I'll take it as a compliment," Fenris muttered, and led them from the alley, checking to make sure the thugs had truly fled.

They asked the nearest merchant for directions to the alienage, which were given begrudgingly and with a dirty look. Fenris paid the man no mind and followed the winding streets to the alienage square. Surprisingly, it was much cleaner than the rest of the city, though extremely crowded. Merchants lined the main thoroughfare, and the general feel was lighter and more welcoming.

"It's amazing," Dorian mused. "In the middle of this city with all its garbage, you find this gorgeous tree."

"Shemlen."

Fenris scowled, turning to see who threw the insult, but the crowd was thick. He pulled his hood down, eyes narrowed.

"Let it go," Dorian said, touching his elbow. "I can't imagine I'm very welcome here, all things considered. Did you want to ask about-"

"Ooh! Are you new here?"

They turned to see a petite female elf with large green eyes, her face marked with vallaslin, looking up at them. She rocked on her heels, hands clasped in front her.

"Are you looking for a place to stay? We have a few empty apartments. Did you eat today?"

Dorian quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing, deferring to Fenris.

"Er. No, thank you. We're not planning on staying long. We were looking for information. We can pay…"

"That won't be necessary. Come! It's probably going to rain soon. I can make us some tea. You can tell me where you're from and what brings you to Kirkwall."

Assessing the danger of one lone elf to be very low, Fenris followed her across the square, Dorian trailing behind. Fenris was aware of the eyes on them, merchants and shoppers alike appraising them, or more accurately Dorian, who was the only human in the area. Safely inside, door closed behind them, Fenris oddly did not feel any better. Now they were simply cornered. If the elves chose to lynch them, he'd just made it easier for them. But it was hard to think that would happen, not when their host was humming and preparing tea.

"Go on and sit. Don't mind the mess," she said cheerfully. "Oh! I forgot. My name is Merrill."

Fenris hesitated, about to give a false name.

"Dorian."

_So much for that,_ he thought, settling next to Dorian on a patched, but thankfully clean couch. "Fenris."

"You have a lovely home," Dorian said politely.

Merrill blushed happily, handing them each a cup of tea before taking one for herself. "It's not much, but it's cozy. Speaking of home, where are you from?"

"Oh a bit of everywhere," Dorian answered evasively, much to Fenris's relief. "Have you always lived in Kirkwall?"

"Not always, but for quite some time. Nearly ten years now, I think. I can't believe it's been that long. Sometimes it feels like just yesterday. But yesterday I went to the Hanged Man, so I know it wasn't then."

Fenris felt the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes. The tea did not help.

Dorian, however, laughed. "I know exactly how you feel. But Merrill, what we really wanted to know is if you could tell us anything about what happened here. What spurred on the rebellion? Specifically, the ah, little issue with the chantry."

Merrill's smile disappeared. Her hands shook a bit and she lowered the cup to her lap. "I… don't really like to talk about that."

"You could help," Fenris pressed. "We've heard rumors in the north about mages who will take advantage of the situation. If you could direct us to the one who started the catalyst, we may be able to stop anything else like this from happening."

"It's not that I don't want to help…"

Dorian reached out, covering her hand with his own. She looked up at him, and he smiled sympathetically. "Merrill. It must have been awful what happened here. We just want to make sure no one else gets hurt."

Merrill swallowed, then nodded. "I think maybe there's a book you should read, then. I have several copies. Let me just…" She retreated to the other room and returned with a thick book, handing it to Dorian. "It's about a friend of mine. The author… well, he's also a friend of mine but he's not in Kirkwall anymore. They took him to… to Ferelden. To meet the Divine."

Fenris's jaw dropped in surprise. While it was normal for magisters, especially those with significant power, to have regular meetings with the Divine of the Imperial Chantry, for a mere author living in Kirkwall to have that opportunity, that had to be unprecedented.

"Varric Tethras?" Dorian asked, looking at the book. "I know of him."

"Ooh, is he popular where you're from?" Merrill asked, her enthusiasm returning. "He's such a nice dwarf. Not that I've met many."

"Quite," Dorian said distractedly. "May we hang onto this?" he asked, and passed the book to Fenris when she nodded.

Fenris took it, sounding out the title on the cover. His reading improved over the time Felix worked with him, and 'The Tale of the' was easy enough to make out. A man in full armor holding a fiery sword graced the cover, his short black hair drawn as if it had been caught in some wind, a smear of blood over the bridge of his nose. He wondered if the drawing depicted a real person, or if it was simply the artist's embellishment.

"Any idea where they took Mr. Tethras?" Dorian gently pressed.

"I believe it was a town in the mountains. Haven?"

Fenris shrugged when Dorian glanced at him. While he was familiar with the geography of most of northern Thedas, the south confused him. He'd not heard of the town. "Perhaps if we inquire in Ferelden, we'll find it."

"It's our best chance," Dorian agreed. "Well, Merrill, you've been extremely helpful. We've learned a lot." He stood, Fenris tucking the book into his pack and rising as well.

"Won't you stay?" Merrill asked.

"I'm afraid not. We have a long journey ahead of us, but you've been a gracious host. Good luck with things here."

Merrill walked them to the door, bouncing a bit on her heels. "Listen. If you see Varric…"

"Hm?"

"Tell him I said hello. And that we miss him."

Dorian smiled and winked. "Consider it done."

Fenris kept his comments – and his jealousy – to himself, and followed Dorian back out into the alienage.


	3. Chapter 3

The gentle rocking of the boat, the scent of saltwater, the gulls crying overhead, it was all very picturesque. And Fenris hated every bit of it. While he hadn't minded sailing on Rialto Bay or the trips across the Nocen Sea from Minrathous to Alam, there was something about the Waking Sea that turned his stomach. Perhaps it was the greenish tint to the water or the larger than usual waves. Maybe it was the way the docks reeked of garbage and fish and other unsavory stenches that he didn't care to identify. He much preferred traveling by foot or carriage, but the quickest way to Ferelden from Kirkwall was by boat.

"Ugh," Dorian groaned, looking rather green as he gripped the railing.

They'd barely pulled past the Twins, two enormous golden slave statues that marked Kirkwall's bay, and Dorian already looked like he was going to vomit breakfast over the side. Fenris's hatred of boating came less from seasickness and more from the feeling of isolation. There was nowhere to escape on a boat, nowhere to hide for long, and being tossed overboard with only the barest inclination of knowing how to swim quietly terrified him. He placed one hand on Dorian's back, gripping his arm with the other.

"Come. The swaying up here will not help."

Dorian nodded mutely, lips pressed together as he allowed Fenris to pull him away from the railing. They avoided the other passengers, descending the steps. The journey would take roughly two days depending on weather, and Fenris doubted either of them would be sleeping much during it. He guided Dorian to one of the few cabins below deck, barely enough room for them both to stand with a built-in bunk, a thin mattress, and a sad-looking pillow.

"At least it's clean," Fenris muttered, helping Dorian to settle into it.

"I'm beginning to think this was a bad idea," Dorian said, curling up, arms clutching his stomach. "Could have traveled through Orlais. I can pass for Antivan. They wouldn't have known the difference."

Fenris scoffed, kneeling in the cramped space next to the bed. He rooted through his bag, pulling out one of his shirts. "Can you cast magic?"

"Hn? Magic?"

"An ice spell. Freeze the cloth," Fenris ordered, holding it out to him.

Dorian reached up, fingers wrapping around the shirt. A second later the temperature in the room dropped and the cotton froze, Fenris wincing as the magic caused his markings to twinge. He carefully folded the ice-covered cloth and pressed it to the back of Dorian's neck.

"AH! Fasta vass, that's FREEZING!"

"That's the point," Fenris scowled. "Hold still."

He never had to play nurse to anyone before. If Danarius fell ill, he would call for the healers and Fenris would be left alone until the sickness passed. He didn't have the patience for it, he decided, and only his promise to Alexius kept him here at Dorian's side. Then again, where would he really go? The ship wasn't large, just a passenger vessel to ferry less important people across the sea from the Free Marches and back. They could have found passage on a larger ship, one that might not have swayed as much, with bigger cabins and perhaps even a galley. But a handful of coppers was a much more palatable price, even if it meant more days of misery. Once they reached Ferelden, Dorian might be persuaded to spring for a comfortable room at an inn with proper lodgings.

"When I was little," Dorian managed through slightly gritted teeth, "my mother used to sing to me when I was sick."

"I am not singing to you," Fenris said flatly, pulling Dorian to lie on his stomach. He adjusted the cloth and couldn't resist the urge to run his fingers of his free hand through Dorian's hair. It was soft, free from whatever oils and pomades he normally used to style it.

Dorian scoffed. "That's not fair. You're supposed to take care of me. Alexius said so."

Fenris scowled. "No. I'm here to keep you from collapsing under the weight of your own stupidity." His patience was running thin, and though he might never have dared speak to Dorian this way in Tevinter, his annoyance with the entire trip was reaching a critical peak. "Can I trust you to stay here while I find us something to eat?"

Dorian groaned, face half-buried in the pillow. "Don't mention food."

Hauling himself to his feet, Fenris readjusted the frozen shirt. "Just stay here. I'll return shortly."

He ignored Dorian's muffled request as he left the cabin, wishing he could lock it from the outside. Not that Dorian was in any fit state to do much else other than lie there and complain. Taking his time, he found an open room with little more than a few crates as furniture where some of the crew sat playing cards. They glanced up at him, and Fenris rankled. He would have gone completely unnoticed, just another elf on the ship, if it wasn't for his markings. Though he tried to cover them with a long-sleeved tunic, they were always slightly visible through the cloth.

"Do you have any tea?" he ventured. "My companion is sick. The sea doesn't suit him. I can pay."

"Aye," one of them said, scratching at a patchy beard. "We got tea. Play you for it."

Fenris sighed. It would be quicker just to drop a few coppers and take the tea, or even knock them all unconscious. But being in such close quarters with men who clearly wanted to have the upper hand, it wouldn't do to beat them at anything but their own game. So he took up a rickety-looking stool and gestured at the dealer. If nothing else, it would be a decent distraction from his feelings for Dorian, which only grew more complicated the longer he spent with him.

He concentrated on his hand. "Free Marches rules?" he asked, thankful that handling weapons wasn't the only type of training Danarius forced him through. To entertain guests, he needed to know many things, including how to play diamondback, as some visiting dignitaries found it quaint for their fellows to be beaten by a slave.

"Sounds good to me. Boys?" Patchy Beard asked.

There was a general muttering of assent. He listened to their conversation, talking about what whores they were going to fuck when they docked, their lousy pay, how their captain was a hard-ass. While they didn't press him to join in, nor did Fenris feel left out. They hooted and laughed when Fenris played a decent hand, ribbing one another for being beaten by a knife-ear. But Fenris didn't take offense at the slur, recognizing it as an odd sort of camaraderie rather than an insult.

"All right, all right," Patchy Beard said with a gruff laugh. "Take your damn tea leaves. Hope you got water and flint. Don't burn the bloody ship down now."

"Thank you," Fenris said, taking the glass jar from him. Inside were enough leaves to make at least three strong cups.

"And oi, elf," he said, as Fenris reached the door. "If your 'companion' is feeling better and wants to 'play' send him our way, yeah?"

Fenris frowned, lips pursed into a tight line. The innuendo, crude as it was, did not settle well with him. He ignored the laughter of the other men and hurried out, suddenly very eager to be back by Dorian's side, just in case an overzealous shipmate got it into his head that it was acceptable to 'play' with a sick passenger while he was alone and vulnerable.


	4. Chapter 4

By early evening on the second day, having used up the supply of tea and most of his patience, Fenris returned to the small cabin after tracking down some mint leaves. He traded the packet of sweet cookies Merrill gave them when they left Kirkwall, deciding that it was worth it just to have Dorian's discomfort subside as he chewed slowly on one of the leaves. If nothing else, Fenris would be able to rest without listening to the complaints of nausea and headaches.

Dorian seemed to sense his irritation and sighed. "I've been an absolute bear. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you somehow."

Fenris scoffed. "There's nothing that I want from you," he said, though he wasn't sure if that was the truth or not. There were many things that he'd happily take from Dorian. Most of them involved what Dorian started that one night outside Alexius's house. But he wouldn't ask for that. He was fairly sure at this point that Dorian tried to push the memory of that moment of weakness as far from his consciousness as possible. Fenris would be a poor friend to bring it up again and cause him embarrassment, especially in this situation.

"Well, I realize I'm hardly a genie able to grant wishes," Dorian acknowledged. "But something. I promise. I owe you for this."

Fenris knelt next to the bed and took Dorian's arm, pulling up the sleeve, fingers moving delicately to his wrist. He ignored the faint scar there from Magister Pavus's blood ritual, and his thumb found the tendons just below his wrist. He applied gentle pressure, moving in a circular motion.

"What is that?" Dorian asked, lifting his head slightly.

Fenris pushed him back down. "Lie still." The last thing he needed was for Dorian to think he was well enough to get up and move, and then end up sicker than he'd been. "It's a pressure point to attempt to alleviate nausea. Rivaini healers use it."

"Oh, well that could've come in handy a few hours ago when I was vomiting into a bucket." Dorian let out a shaky laugh, fingers flexing and relaxing as Fenris massaged his wrist.

Fenris gritted his teeth. He'd dumped and cleaned out said bucket. The funny thing was that he was starting to get used to the idea of taking care of Dorian in this capacity. Though he would definitely be happy when it was over with and they were back on solid ground once more. He'd mopped his brow, kept the cold shirt against the back of his neck, and sat with him, talking about nothing in particular in order to help Dorian keep his mind off the nausea.

"My apologies. I only just remembered," Fenris said, with more than a bit of sarcasm to his tone.

"…Sorry. It's not your responsibility to keep me from being sick. I should have prepared for this better. The last time I was on an ocean, well. It wasn't _this_ bad."

"We'll be done with this by the morning. Once we hit the city, we'll find a proper bed and a bath."

Dorian nodded in agreement, settling back, sighing. Fenris stood, bent double, and reached over to give his other arm the same treatment. Dorian rolled to his side toward Fenris, and scooted as far back against the wall as he could, leaving a small bit of space on the mattress.

"You should sit. More comfortable."

Fenris looked down at Dorian who was glancing up at him from heavily lidded-eyes, a slight smirk to his lips. Weighing the pros and cons of moving closer to Dorian while he was in a vulnerable state, remembering the last time something like that happened, Fenris hesitated. Since meeting Dorian he still found it difficult to interpret his subtle cadence, his sarcasm, whether or not he was flirting, and if he was, if he actually meant it, or if it was just something Dorian was unable to turn off, regardless of who was on the receiving end his charms. Fortunately or not, the decision was made for him. A dull explosion came from outside, the sounds of running and shouting from above their heads. Fenris picked up his sword, propped up in the corner of the room.

"Stay here," he ordered.

"The Void I am," Dorian said, already getting out of bed.

Fenris cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes. "If it's an attack, I'm letting them take you. They can deal with your illness."

"Fine, fine. Lead the way."

Fenris did, pushing out of the room to join the crowd gathering on the deck of the ship. The second he stepped up, he realized the cause for the panic. Everyone was looking up toward the southwest. The night sky lit up with a bright, sickly green color, the middle of it vortex-like and swirling. Fenris winced, his lyrium brands glowing at once, pulling at his skin. Dorian laid a warm hand against the small of his back.

"Sweet Maker," Dorian breathed. "Is that… a tear in the Veil?"

Fenris had seen little ones before, briefly when Danarius drew demons across the Fade. When he phased entirely, ghost-like in his form, he saw glimpses of what it looked like beyond. But nothing in this capacity, nothing so vast and terrifying. He swallowed hard, gripping the handle of his sword, unable to say anything.

"Fenris?" Dorian asked, looking at him. The hand moved from his back to his shoulder, turning him away from the sight.

Fenris shook his head. "I'm fine. It's… I can feel the Fade in my markings." He held up his free arm.

Dorian pulled back his sleeve, trailing his fingers over the glowing, swirling marks. He nodded. "My magic, too. Like an infinite well of mana. I've never seen anything like that, though. What could possibly have caused it?"

"The Divine's conclave!" someone suddenly shouted. "The Temple of Sacred Ashes!"

The crowd immediately tightened around the one who said it, clamoring for more information on what it was. What could have caused a hole in the sky like that? Demons? Mages? Theories formed and flew until the captain finally broke up the crowd. Perhaps the man recognized that a discussion about mages and giant tears in the sky was bad for business. Crowd mentality was dangerous at best, and Fenris realized the danger, pulling his sleeve down and backing away from the mob that could turn quickly on himself or Dorian if they realized he was a mage.

"You know with our luck, that's where Haven is," Dorian mused. "Right under the giant glowing hole in the Veil."

"The Divine's Conclave," Fenris mused. "There's a good chance… do you think she was killed?"

Dorian started to reply when the ship pitched and he lost his footing, Fenris grabbing him quickly before he fell. He looked pale and sick, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. The nausea, it seemed, came back full force now the excitement had passed. With a sigh, Fenris helped him back below deck.

"If she was," Dorian said weakly, leaning against Fenris, "there's a good chance our author was too. And an explosion like that? Hm. Shame. I rather liked his books. Still," he groaned, falling back into bed, "that's likely our best bet to find out information on what's going on. If the southern mages decided to rip a hole in the sky, the Venatori might just be on their way to recruit. We'll write to Alexius when we make land and let him know where we'll be for a while. You should try to sleep," he added, moving back against the wall once more to allow Fenris a small bit of space.

Fenris scowled and sat on the floor instead, head resting back against the wall, trying to ignore the swaying of the ship, the twinge of his markings. "This may just be the worst idea you've ever had, walking into the tiger's den."

Dorian laughed. "Possibly. Then again, only time will tell. I have a feeling there will be ample opportunities for me to come up with even worse ideas."

"And I will be there to inform you of how terrible they are."

Fenris felt Dorian's fingers brush along his ear, causing him to shiver.

"I wouldn't want it any other way," Dorian whispered, halfway to sleep.

Fenris let the gentle swaying of the ship lull him slowly as well, hoping the dawn would bring them some respite in the form of a decent bed, a bath, and a proper meal.


	5. Chapter 5

A little over two weeks later they'd nearly reached Haven when a runner found them, carrying news of Venatori movements.

_Dorian,_

_Venatori agents are already moving south to engage the free mages. Fiona writes that she's gathered as many as she can and is heading for a town called Redcliffe, south of Lake Calenhad. I'm taking Felix with me to meet her there. Hopefully we can reach it before the others. I think they still believe that I'm loyal to them, however there's a lot of talk about this 'Elder One', and I've yet to meet the man. He must be charismatic to gather as many magisters to his side as he has._

_Servis has gone to Orlais. Erimond mentioned the Western Approach. The Elder One tasked them with a secret mission. I haven't heard details regarding movements, which makes me worry that I'm not as safe as I believe myself to be. I would leave Felix behind to continue keeping tabs on things here but I can't trust that he wouldn't be in even more danger._

_Perhaps we can meet soon in the south._

_Keep safe, and Fenris too._

_-Alexius_

"The Western Approach. A broken down wasteland that barely has the ability to sustain a proper settlement?" Dorian frowned, tucking the letter into his pocket. "I don't like the sounds of this 'Elder One'. It feels like he's setting himself up to… I'm not sure. Rule Tevinter?"

"If he's got the majority of the Magisterium on his side," Fenris said, "there's a good chance the Archon could be overthrown."

"Indeed. But there's so little information. A handful of magisters doesn't equal the entire senate. It sounds like it's still just a group of supremacists, trying to grab at power. If they're looking to recruit the southern mages though, maybe this Elder One doesn't care about Tevinter. Maybe he just wants power, regardless of where it comes from," Dorian mused as they continued their trek through the mountains.

The location of town of Haven, well into the Frostback Mountains, gave the initial impression of some far out of the way settlement, perhaps a holiday resort. However, the path leading toward it was well-traveled now, merchants with their carts of goods and soldiers on the road. They were hardly given second glances, talks of a pilgrimage to the town on everyone's lips. Dorian stopped a family to ask for more details.

"They say a man fell out of the sky, a _mage_. That Andraste herself saved him and him alone from the explosion that flattened the Temple of Sacred Ashes!" explained a very over-excited woman. "Can you imagine it? And what's more-"

Her husband called from behind, glaring at Dorian, and told her to hurry up. She gave them an apologetic look and gathered her skirts, rushing away.

"A mage falls out of the sky and they're lauding him as the Herald of Andraste?" Dorian asked, bewildered. "Things really have gone pear-shaped down here, haven't they? Next thing you know, they're going to put a mage on the Sunburst Throne."

Fenris felt unsettled with the idea. While he counted himself amongst one of the fortunate ones, having escaped Danarius and finding himself in a much more palatable house, there were still thousands of slaves in horrible situations in Tevinter. And while not all mages would resort to blood magic, how many of them would? How many, given their first taste of real freedom, would immediately try to gain more power? Would that mean slavery spreading back to the south? And if Venatori were heading their way, chances were they would sway even more mages to their side. The one good thing about it all though was the fact that if they ran into any Venatori who became violent, he could cut them down. Dorian might even approve of his methods.

They rounded the last bend, Dorian shivering under his cloak, complaining about the snow underfoot, stopping long enough to look up at the town a few hundred feet away. "That's it?" he asked, with a derisive scoff. "From what we heard on the road, I was expecting something glorious. A sprawling settlement with tasteful villas, not a rundown, ramshackle-"

"Perhaps it would be prudent not to insult the town when we're going to be seeking shelter there for the next few days," Fenris interrupted.

"Hmph. You've spent entirely too much time with Felix."

"So you delight in telling me," Fenris replied. Though he did take it as a compliment whenever Dorian brought it up.

They skirted the training yard, Dorian eyeing a woman in full templar plate with caution. Fenris kept one hand on the pommel of a dagger, just in case someone tried to confront them. They jogged up the icy steps to the double wooden gates which were flung wide. From inside came the sounds of a bustling town, a merchant calling his wares, a food cart stocked to the brim, delicious smells wafting their way, making Fenris's stomach growl.

"After we speak to whoever's in charge," Dorian assured him, watching his eyes slide to the woman pushing what looked like some sort of steamed doughy bun. "My treat."

A quick search of the main road led them toward the chantry, easily the largest and sturdiest looking building. Upon its doors was a proclamation, an eye contained within a sunburst. Fenris looked at it, puzzled.

"The Inquisition of Old," Dorian read. "I think I remember this from history lessons. Didn't they help form the Chantry? Later they became the Templar Order, I believe. …This doesn't really bode well, does it?"

"We're here," Fenris said, not lifting his hand from his dagger. "I doubt they would arrest you for being a mage. They wouldn't get the chance."

Dorian laughed, pushing the doors open. "And you would stop them?"

"I would," Fenris declared. "I told Alexius I would keep you safe."

"Ah Fenris, my great, prickly defender. Hello there," he said, lifting a hand to an important-looking blond man dressed in armor. "Might we speak to whoever's in charge?"

The man stopped, frowning as he looked up from the papers he was carrying. "That depends on who you are, I think."

"I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Dorian of house Pavus, most recently of Minrathous."

The effect was immediate. The man lowered his papers, straightening, expression quickly changing from tired and careworn to suspicious.

"And this is my travelling companion-slash-bodyguard-slash-personal shadow, Fenris."

The man's eyes flicked from Dorian to Fenris briefly, to his markings, then back to Dorian. "I see. And what brings a magister of Tevinter to Haven?"

Dorian sighed. "Not a magister, though I suppose you use the terms here interchangeably. I am, however, a mage of no small talent and thought perhaps you could use the information I bring out of my homeland. My patron recently has found some information regarding a Tevinter cult of supremacists who might be looking into recruiting southern mages for whatever nefarious purposes they've doubtless been cooking up. Might we know your name, though, since we've offered ours?"

"Cullen. And I suppose… well, I suppose you should meet with the Herald at least. He's resting at the moment." Cullen took in their travel-worn clothing. "Perhaps we can offer you a meal at the tavern."

"A bed for the night wouldn't go amiss either," Dorian added hopefully.

"We've some sturdy tents within the town's walls, but every bed is currently full." He gestured, leading them back out of the chantry. "We've infirmed, refugees from the south, soldiers who are – Are you a healer, by chance?" Cullen asked, glancing at the staff on Dorian's back hopefully.

"I'm afraid I'm rather hopeless with that beyond smaller wounds. Built for battle. You need something burned down or blown up though, I am your mage."

Cullen let out a bark of laughter. "I think we've got that part covered," he said, nodding at the giant hole in the sky. "The Herald did what he could to seal the rift, but the Breach – what we're calling it – remains. Right now we think that we can get it closed, but we need more power. And we lack the influence it would take to speak with either the leader of the mages or what remains of the Templar Order, and even if we did I'm not sure either group would be so pleased to speak with our Herald."

"I think we could perhaps help with that," Dorian said, following him down a path ending in a few small houses. "My patron is on his way here. We'll likely be meeting in Redcliffe soon. He's been speaking with the Grand Enchanter and they're on good terms."

Cullen stopped, head tilted a little, looking impressed with the news. "It seems then that you've come just when we needed you."

"I aim to please," Dorian said with a grin.

Fenris scowled. He wasn't sure if he was irritated with Dorian's congenial nature and light flirting on principle, or because it was being directed toward someone other than himself.

Cullen knocked lightly on the door and waited to be given permission to enter. "I have to tell you, the Herald's companion is a little… protective of him. So don't take offense if he gets snippy."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "I cannot wait to meet him," he deadpanned.

"Come in," came a sleepy voice from inside.

Cullen pushed the door open and led the way in.


	6. Chapter 6

The house was little more than a bedroom with a table shoved into one corner and a desk in the other. It was, however, warm with a fire crackling in the fireplace, and clean. Sparsely decorated if slightly disorganized, an overflowing bookshelf lined the wall, and papers piled high on both desk and table. It was homey. Standing near the table was a broad-shouldered man with windswept black hair and a full beard, stirring sugar into a cup of steaming tea. Fenris thought he looked familiar, but was sure he never met him before in his life. His eyes flicked then to the man in the bed, the large nightshirt giving him the appearance of being thinner than he likely was, dark circles under his eyes, his chin-length blond hair loose and damp around his face.

"Thank you," he said, taking the cup from the dark-haired man.

"Gentlemen," Cullen said, realizing he needed to make introductions. "Allow me to introduce you to our Herald of Andraste." He gestured to the man sitting up in bed.

"I would have made a better impression had I been allowed to put on pants first," the Herald said with a genuine smile. "You can call me Anders. I find I much prefer that."

"He's feeling under the weather," the other man remarked gruffly. "State your business and leave."

Cullen cleared his throat. "And this is the Champ-"

"Hawke," the man said, cutting Cullen off with a glare.

"Champion of Kirkwall," Fenris said, suddenly realizing where he recognized him from. The cover of the book that Merrill gave him.

"I don't use that title anymore," Hawke said, leveling his gaze at Fenris. "Hawke is fine."

"You're scaring our new friends," Anders said, reaching up and tugging Hawke to sit on the bed next to him.

Fenris watched the Herald – Anders – sip tea while Hawke glared in their general direction. Cullen shifted uncomfortably, gesturing to Dorian.

"Dorian Pavus," Dorian said, taking the pressure off Cullen. He stepped forward to offer a hand to Hawke. "We've traveled from the north to bring news."

Hawke half-rose and shook his hand guardedly. "'The north'?"

"He's from Tevinter," Cullen helpfully supplied.

The glare turned suspicious. Fenris stepped forward in case there was to be bloodshed, and Anders tugged Hawke back down again.

"I think we're good for now, Cullen," Anders said. "Tell Cassandra we'll be ready to leave for Val Royeaux in the morning."

"I think you need another day of rest," Hawke said, looking back at him. "We've only just gotten back-"

"I'm fine, love," Anders soothed, reaching up and brushing Hawke's hair from his eyes. "Stop worrying."

Hawke grunted but said nothing, his body language indicating that this conversation, while momentarily on hold, was far from over.

Cullen nodded. "Very good. Ah, they have information about the mages in Redcliffe. I think we should all be debriefed tonight. I'd like to call a war council."

"War council?" Dorian asked. "Is it as serious as all that already?"

Hawke scowled. "There's war everywhere right now. Civil unrest in Orlais, mages and templars fighting in the streets all over Ferelden. I suppose it's all fine where you're from, though."

"My good man, the question was not meant as a challenge or insult."

"Stop, please," Anders sighed. "That's fine, Cullen. We'll be there. After dinner."

Cullen nodded again and left without another word, a gust of cold wintery air sneaking into the room as he shut the door.

"If you are Hawke," Fenris said carefully, "then you are _that_ Anders." He read the book or, more accurately, had Dorian read him passages of the book. The Tale of the Champion detailed several years of Garrett Hawke's life in Kirkwall, but they skimmed a lot of it, concentrating on the chapters that focused on Anders, the mage who blew up the chantry and provoked a chain of events that changed the way the south viewed mages.

"I can't imagine there are many of us," Anders joked lightly. "Sit down."

Fenris crossed the room, waiting for Dorian to sit before doing the same. He noticed how Anders' hand found Hawke's, their fingers entwining loosely. They seemed very in tune with one another, and the affection between them was clear as was the 'protectiveness' as Cullen put it.

"Did you come to gawk, or did you have information?" Hawke asked.

"Both," Dorian said, winking at Anders. "I admit I am intrigued. I've read the book, but so many details were left out. It says so little about your motivation, about what truly happened that night."

"We're done here," Hawke said, moving to stand again.

"Hawke, sit _down_ ," Anders implored. "Or go find Varric and tell him he has more fans in the camp."

Hawke growled, muttering something under his breath before settling once more.

"I'm not sure I could explain it," Anders said carefully. "There are still quite a lot of people who would see me dead for everything that happened. As to how this happened…" He released Hawke's hand to hold his palm out, a crackling green energy glowing briefly before fizzling out. "No one's really clear on that, either. I don't remember much from that day, and the parts after are all… a bit fuzzy. It's been a hell of a couple of weeks." He laughed lightly.

"You shouldn't have gone in the first place," Hawke said, not sharing in the amusement.

"Hawke's angry I left him behind and he had to track me down. I wanted to go to the Conclave to talk to the Divine, to see what I could do. To… well. You said you had information. I'd like to hear it," Anders said, abruptly changing the direction of the conversation.

Fenris's head was spinning. The book hadn't detailed why Anders felt the need to destroy the chantry. Dorian seemed to think there was more to the story, but it was clear they weren't going to hear it. Not now, anyway. But if Dorian truly wanted an answer, Fenris was sure he would charm it out of them one way or another. Though it would be interesting to see how he handled Hawke's obvious distaste.

"Of course," Dorian said. "A friend of mine has been looking into a Tevinter group of supremacists. It hasn't spread to the Magisterium yet as far as we know, but what we do know that they plan to come south to talk to the free mages here. Possibly to gain power for someone called 'The Elder One.' Now I think that if your Inquisition is trying to close that hole in the sky, you might want to consider keeping that power for yourself."

"But the mages won't talk to us," Anders said quietly. "They ah… Some support what I've done. Others…"

"Which is why you need us," Dorian said excitedly. "My friend? He's been in touch with your Grand Enchanter. They're coming to meet her, and I'm fairly positive I could arrange a meeting between all of us."

"That… that would be most helpful," Anders agreed, a touch of relief in his tone. "If we can talk to the Grand Enchanter, get the mages on our side, we won't have to track down the… the templars," he finished, and closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead.

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked, concerned. He moved to stand, but Hawke was there first, pulling Anders close.

"Shh, s'all right," Hawke muttered, lips pressed against Anders' temple. "S'fine. Yeah? You're here with me."

Anders shuddered and shook his head, forcing a smile as he looked at them. "Sorry. Headaches."

Fenris knew at once it was a lie, and from the look of disbelief on Dorian's face, he was sure Dorian figured that out as well.

"Why would you help us, though?" Anders asked, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before looking back at them. "You'd fight against your own countrymen if it came to it?"

"Every few years you hear of a group of extremists who try to change things," Dorian said. "And some of them want to change it for the better, but a lot of the time… well, there's talk of things going back to the 'glory days' and there happens to be a lot of debate on what that actually means. I love my country, and I don't want to see it fall to war – civil or otherwise. This group appears to be gaining steam, possibly because of this 'Elder One' leader of theirs. But I think it's best we put a stop to it before the whole idea spirals into something uncontrollable. I know we're not perfect in Tevinter, but this is not the way to bring glory to the Imperium."

"Is that sword aurum?" Hawke asked suddenly, looking at Fenris with such intensity that Fenris had to drop his gaze.

"I… er… silverite."

"Let's take a walk." Hawke stood, kissing Anders on the forehead. "Don't overexert yourself."

"I won't," Anders said. If Hawke's sudden change in behavior confused him, he didn't show it.

Fenris looked to Dorian for help, unsure as to what he should do.

Dorian nodded. "Go on. The Herald and I have fascinating stories to swap."

Hawke held open the door, and Fenris had no choice but to step outside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's my birthday today (2/18) I decided to be like a hobbit and give you all four chapters today. Updates will continue irregularly but frequently (I hope) as I finish Part Five. Which should be... any day now.
> 
> Enjoy!

Fenris was hesitant to follow Hawke away from the house, and was relieved when Hawke merely led him around the back side. Out of the wind, it wasn't as cold. Firewood lay covered in a thin blanket of snow, piled in a corner against the wall that separated the town from the training field outside. The sounds of swords clanging and the shouts of soldiers drifted toward them. Fenris waited, wondering why Hawke pulled him away, and so abruptly.

"So you're from Tevinter."

"Yes," Fenris said guardedly.

Hawke crossed his arms, eyes narrowed as he fixed him with a calculating stare. "Are you his slave?"

Fenris gaped, brows raised in surprise. "Sorry?" It wasn't that the question was confusing, simply that it caught him off guard.

"Tevinters keep slaves. Mostly elves, right? Happened in Kirkwall, too. If it wasn't blood mages, it was slavers." The disgust in Hawke's voice was clear.

Fenris wondered briefly if he said 'yes' what Hawke's reaction would be. However, Hawke didn't strike him as a man to be messed with. And he had a hard enough time keeping Dorian safe that he didn't need someone like Hawke so vehemently against him. "No. I am not his slave."

Hawke's jaw twitched from clenching. "A slave, then? Whose?"

Fenris wondered further if Hawke meant to work to free him from his invisible chains, to hunt down his non-existent master and make him a free elf. He'd barely known him ten minutes, and already Hawke seemed to want to protect him. Then again, he was described somewhat similarly in his tale, quick to anger, but a defender of the oppressed. "No. You misunderstand. I am no longer a slave."

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say. Hawke uncrossed his arms, but his hands balled into fists. "No longer," he repeated. "Well. There's that, then. You're not lying to protect him, are you?"

"No!" Fenris said exasperatedly, his breath escaping in a white puff. "No. I was in the service of another when I was sold to his patron who freed me."

Hawke scowled. "Disgusting fucking business."

Fenris was tempted to ask Hawke what he knew of it, feeling somewhat offended at the harsh, snap judgment of his master. None of the slaves in Alexius's house had cause to complain. They were treated fairly, given leave to recover if they were sick, never made to participate in any distasteful rituals. Fenris actually _enjoyed_ the time he spent there, and missed it every day.

"So why are you with him if you're free?"

"I stayed with my former master as a servant. He asked me to come with Dorian to keep him safe." Fenris would not tell Hawke the real reason Dorian left Tevinter. It wasn't his story to tell, and he doubted Dorian would thank him for revealing such a personal secret.

"Sounds like he's still treating you as a slave."

"It was my choice," Fenris insisted. "Dorian is family."

Hawke stared at him a moment longer. "All right. If you're sure. If you're lying-"

"I am not," Fenris said flatly.

"I was just going to say," Hawke said, taking a breath, "that if you needed a place to stay, you're welcome here. You don't have to go back if you don't want. Ever."

The intensity with which Hawke spoke shook Fenris a little. What had he seen that made him hate slavery so strongly? He shuddered to think what Hawke would do if he ever met Danarius, if he knew what Danarius and so many other masters were capable of. But he would not let Hawke hurt Alexius or Felix.

"When we meet the others," Fenris started carefully, "will you be civil?"

Hawke scowled. "You're asking me to be civil to slavers? Next you'll ask me to give the templars backrubs."

"Perish the thought," Fenris said sarcastically. "You… are not a mage yourself."

"No, I'm not," Hawke confirmed.

"Yet you believe in the cause Anders was willing to give his life for? The book was… vague. Irritatingly."

Hawke grunted. "That's Varric for you. The book should've been about Anders, not me. Or not written at all."

"That doesn't answer the question."

Hawke nodded. "I do. I believe in what he was trying to do. What he's still trying to do. It wasn't about starting a war. Not at first." He shrugged. "Maybe not ever. You'd want to talk to Anders about it. But don't upset him. He's passionate. He's worked far too hard for far too long, trying to get the Chantry to pull its head out of its ass. Writing his letters and manifestos, trying to get everyone from the Divine to the local priests to hear what he had to say. Noble of him, sure. But in the end what did they listen to? Violence. Seems like the only thing they get. And now they want him."

"Er. Want him?" Fenris asked, trying to keep up with the conversational shift.

"We were both wanted after the shit in Kirkwall. So we decided to leave, to divert the Divine's attention away, hoping that if she sent soldiers they wouldn't go to Kirkwall. Been on the run until Anders got it in his head that if he could just talk to the Divine in person and explain what happened, he could fix all this. Freedom for mages, no more need for the Circles." Hawke shook his head. "Had to track him down. Let me tell you, it was _really_ hard to explain to Cassandra that he didn't mean to blow up the Conclave, what with his history and all. But he's not a violent man. He's an idealist. And he trusts too quickly. Especially now.

"So yes," Hawke sighed. "The Chantry. Or what's left of it since most of their grand clerics and hoity toity holier-than-thou sisters and mothers are smears on the side of the Frostbacks, have banded together to demand the Inquisition hand Anders over for judgment. And fool that he is, he's going."

"To Val Royeaux," Fenris ventured. "Tomorrow morning?"

Hawke huffed. "You know what he did after he blew up the chantry in Kirkwall?"

Fenris shook his head. "The book was-"

"Vague. Yes," Hawke said, waving his hand irritably. "He sat there. He waited for judgment. And Meredith off on her crazy bend… not that I'd let her touch him, and Orsino left him to me. Like he had the authority," he scoffed. He frowned, brow furrowed as if he was recalling that day. "I didn't even hesitate. The idiot thought I was going to kill him. As if I could. Even if I didn't agree with what he did, I couldn't ever… He's the best thing that ever happened to me and I very much intend to keep him alive."

Fenris shivered with the ferocity of the last statement. To have someone care about you that much, to feel so deeply and genuinely, it was rather frightening. "What does he hope to accomplish by going to Val Royeaux?"

"To talk to the mothers and the priests that are left. Maybe to show people that he's not a monster. Don't know why he should bother. It's not as though they deserve his attention after everything. They'd sooner have seen him locked up in a Circle just for being a mage. Who knows? Maybe we'll find some support there but I'm not holding my breath. Cassandra thinks it's worth it and for now we're following her lead."

"Cassandra?" Fenris asked, hearing her name now for a second time.

"She's a Seeker of Truth. Or used to be, I guess. Just like how Cullen used to be a templar and I used to be Champion of Kirkwall. The Inquisition seems to be the great equalizer." He let out a mirthless laugh. "Except with Anders. His problems just keep stacking. Half the world wants to hold him responsible for every bad thing that's ever happened in Thedas and the other half is confused as to why the Maker would choose the mage who blew up a chantry as His mouthpiece. It's fucked up, you see? If Andraste chose Anders, that means he was right. And no one wants to believe that because no one wants to think the Chantry was wrong. Why did the Maker let Divine Justinia die and let a 'heretic' like Anders live?" Hawke shrugged. "Personally I think the Maker's got a shitty sense of humor, if He even exists. More likely Anders is just extremely lucky. But I won't say that in front of him. He still believes. And the more people believe he's the Herald of Andraste or whatever they want to call him, the better. It means mages get to be treated like people instead of cattle."

"You… don't believe the Maker exists?"

Hawke shrugged again. "Do you? I mean, you were a slave. You really think the Maker exists with everything you've seen?"

It was a question Fenris asked himself before. He still didn't have an answer and likely wouldn't today. "I'm not sure. But there's one more thing…"

"I'm sure there's more than one," Hawke laughed. His antagonistic mask slid slowly away. "Go on. Then we'll head back in. It's bloody freezing out here."

"Why do you support the mages? Just because of Anders?"

Hawke frowned. "It's just right, you know? You don't lock people up unless they broke the law. What did mages do other than just be born different?"

"And it's that simple?" Fenris asked.

"Should be," Hawke said definitively. "But fine. You want more. My father was a mage. And my sister. My father was in Kirkwall's Circle for a long time before he escaped. You know why he escaped? To marry my mother. He couldn't even marry the woman he loved because he was a mage. And he wouldn't have even met her if the viscount at the time hadn't taken it upon himself to parade the mages around his keep like little ornamental dolls for the nobles to gawk at." He sneered, and the anger returned in full force. "And my sister, I fought to keep her safe. We moved all the time to avoid templars. Fat lot of good it did in the end."

"I…I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Hawke muttered. "Wasn't templars. Darkspawn. Look. I could use a drink. But we should talk again. You should come with us. We could use another blade on the road to Val Royeaux. You _are_ good with it, right? Pointy end goes in the bad guy?"

Fenris smirked. "Yes. I am good."

"Good. I guess your friend will be coming too. I bet Anders adopted him already."

"I wouldn't leave his side," Fenris insisted. "I go with Dorian."

Hawke gave him another appraising look, this time it was understanding and acceptance. "I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

Pleased with the assessment, Fenris followed Hawke back inside the house.


	8. Chapter 8

Haven was unsettling in a way that Fenris never thought possible. Usually people were content to ignore him, or look at his markings with curiosity. In Tevinter, if he was alone, he might have been insulted for being an elf. With Dorian and Felix, he might as well be a shadow. But here in Haven it didn't seem to matter what he was. To them, he was equal. Cassandra treated him much the same as she did anyone, asking him about his sword and training as Hawke had done, albeit in greater detail. He felt oddly at ease with her, rightfully pegging her as a woman who put up with very little nonsense, and she spoke plainly. It made a nice change from those whose paths he crossed in Tevinter.

They very briefly met two others: the dwarven author Varric Tethras, who was only too happy to hear that Merrill was doing well, and another elf who shared a name with a city in Tevinter that Fenris was familiar with. Solas was a city in the south part of the Imperium where Danarius's associate, Magister Faustinus Scaevola, kept residence, managing several vineyards in a somewhat modest estate. While the city reminded him of unpleasant summer visits, the elf was… solely unique. Neither a city elf, nor Dalish, Solas appeared to be very much a loner, something Fenris could appreciate. He'd never fit in with the other elven house slaves, and while he'd been granted freedom, he never truly felt equal with those who surrounded him. And while Solas's manner and strange speech was somewhat unusual, Fenris liked him straight away.

_"You are called Fenris?"_

_"…yes."_

_Solas leaned on his staff, a small smile touching his lips. "'Little Wolf' in the tongue of the People."_

_"My former master gave me the name. If I had one before, I don't remember it."_

_"Mm. But are you?"_

_"Am I what?"_

_"A wolf."_

Fenris didn't have an answer, and Solas changed the subject easily, asking him what he knew of the elvhen. Fenris explained how he never felt as if he belonged to any part of the culture, Dalish or otherwise, and was surprised to learn that Solas felt similarly. They swapped tales over dinner and after the war council meeting, Fenris found himself eagerly listening to the stories Solas told about his journeys into the Fade. Fenris heard of dreamers – somniari – from Danarius. In fact, Magister Scaevola himself was well-versed in Fade dreaming, but Solas never used blood magic as the magister did, nor did he consort with demons. The way he spoke of spirits left Fenris wondering about the Fade, about his markings, the lyrium that let him phase through the Veil. If Solas could control spirits without the use of blood magic, it made him far more powerful and stronger-willed than Danarius or any of his associates. A mage whose power surpassed the magisters, and yet he did not fall to the temptations that power could bring. There was a grudging respect that formed.

"It is cruel what was done to you," Solas remarked quietly during breakfast. They were gathered in the tavern, sharing a table, though Solas alone seemed to be without the general grogginess that plagued the others.

Fenris looked across the table at him. "Hm?"

"The lyrium in your skin."

"Oh." Fenris shifted uneasily. Next to him Dorian was nursing a cup of coffee, picking at a plate of eggs. Down the table were the others in a similar state, Cassandra near the end, looking as if she'd bite the head off whoever dared speak to her. "Yes. I don't remember much about them except the pain."

"Would you like to?"

"I… never thought about it," Fenris admitted. Even after Alexius bought him he never thought much about his life before the markings, his lost memories. He always assumed he'd belonged to Danarius since he was young; perhaps even since birth. If his parents were born slaves, it led to reason that was how he came to his former master. 

"I will not push the subject," Solas said gently. "I only meant to offer you a glimpse into your past if you were interested."

"How?" Fenris asked, curious.

"Through the Fade, many things are possible. Your marks would make it much easier for me to bring you there through dreams than say…" He glanced down the table. "Our other warrior friends," he finished delicately.

Dorian reached over, plucked a piece of bacon from Fenris's plate, offering a tired smile and a wink as he munched, and returned to his coffee and feeble attempts at conversation with Anders, who sat on his other side.

"I will think on it," Fenris said quietly. "Thank you for the offer."

"Of course."

"Are you coming with us to Val Royeaux?" Fenris asked. It might be nice to have someone to simply walk in silence with.

"No, I don't believe so. Too large a party may attract unwanted attention. An elven apostate in Val Royeaux would make the Herald's journey more taxing than less."

"I see."

"Do cheer up," Solas said, standing, taking his plate. "I am sure we'll have plenty of opportunity to converse at a later time. I'm looking forward to it, in fact."

Fenris returned the slight smile and watched Solas hand his plate to the bartender before taking his leave of the tavern.

Dorian nudged him. "He's looking forward to it," he teased. "From the look on your face, so are you. Fenris, you sly, sly dog."

Fenris scowled. "It's nothing like that." The last thing he wanted was Dorian thinking he was interested in one of the Herald's companions. They had a task to complete and after they were finished, perhaps they could return to Tevinter. To normalcy. He hoped Dorian felt the same and wasn't getting any ideas of his own.

"If you say so," Dorian said with a shrug. "He's easy on the eyes though, wouldn't you say? Shame about the lack of fashion sense. Then again, maybe 'apostate hobo' is in this season."

"I hadn't noticed," Fenris muttered. He scraped the rest of his bacon onto Dorian's plate and started to stand.

Dorian grabbed his wrist, looking up at him, an apology on his lips. "Fenris-"

"Leave it," Fenris sighed, pulling away. He left his plate with the bartender and grabbed up his sword on the way out.

He felt slightly guilty at how he left the conversation. After all, if nothing else, Dorian was the only person he could consider a friend here, despite the general feeling of acceptance. He didn't trust easily, and Dorian would have his back. He hoped that when they met Alexius and Felix they would be able to convince Dorian to return to Tevinter. There had to be some way for Dorian to return to his house without having to continue the blood magic rituals. Perhaps his father would regret disowning him and allow him to live his life the way he wanted.

_Right,_ Fenris thought with a snort. _And the magisters would see the errors of their ways and free all the slaves immediately._

He returned to their tent to ready himself for the trip to Val Royeaux.


	9. Chapter 9

They journeyed quickly toward the capital by horse at first, taking the highway but avoiding the civil unrest in Halamshiral. The ferry across the sea lasted only mere hours, Fenris keeping his eye on Dorian, though it seemed it was unnecessary. He appeared largely unaffected, only slightly pale. Fenris was grateful that no one wanted to speak much, except of course for Dorian, who continued to pelt all three of their companions with random questions relating to the task. He moved from Hawke, who seemed largely disinclined to talk about anything, to Anders, who was starting to look much better than he had when they first met him.

"So why blow up a chantry?"

Hawke glared sidelong at Dorian, but Anders gently touched his hand. "It wasn't the original plan. Or the only one."

"We didn't hear much about it while we were in Kirkwall," Dorian pressed. "…Bit of a shithole, to be honest. But was it terrible there for you? Were you in their Circle?"

"Not Kirkwall's, thank the Maker," Anders said quietly. "I was in the Fereldan Circle. I escaped."

Cassandra made a noise close to disapproval. Hawke's eyes narrowed, but neither said anything. Fenris wondered if this was a point of contention between them. He hadn't heard of the Seekers of Truth, though from the vague bits of information he could glean, he assumed they were templar-like in their duties.

"Escaped? So the Circles here aren't like the ones back home, I assume."

"That depends on what the Circles in Tevinter are like," Anders said. "I thought about it a lot. To be a free mage…" He trailed off, his voice heavy with envy.

"Granted, it sounds like our lot are better up north. But there are other things to contend with. Other ah… constrictions. But no, the Circles are universities, prestigious schools of magic where even the lowest of the lower class are invited to study. No mage is turned away for study, though sometimes being locked in the class warfare system can make it feel like a prison. I've been fortunate in that regard, at least. Still, I don't think I'd trade it for what passes down here."

"Seems nobles are the same everywhere," Hawke chimed in. "Uppity, spoiled-"

"Useless," Cassandra added. "Backstabbing."

Dorian laughed uncomfortably. "Oh come now. We're not all bad, are we?"

"Yes," Hawke grunted. "Most can't find their arse with both hands."

"Well I daresay I can manage _that_ ," Dorian said defensively.

"This is one argument you may not win," Fenris said. "You are outnumbered."

Dorian hmphed before changing the subject. "So you escaped your Circle?"

"Quite a few times," Anders said. "That was before I became a Grey Warden."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "You're a Grey Warden? And the Herald of Andraste. That's quite an impressive resume." 

Fenris hesitated before saying, "I've met Grey Wardens before."

"Oh?" Anders asked. "Were they exceedingly dull and tiresome with a penchant for talking about darkspawn and taint?"

"Er. No. They saved my life."

"Well we're good for that at least," Anders said, sounding content with the answer.

"So how did you end up in Kirkwall of all places?" Dorian pressed. "Seems out of the way if you were from Ferelden. Even for an apostate-turned-Grey Warden. Did the Wardens station you there?"

"That… ah. No. I left the Wardens."

"You have an awful lot of questions," Hawke interjected, moving between Anders and Dorian as they walked.

"Just a friendly chat between mages," Dorian said gently.

"Seems a bit convenient," Hawke said. "Asking questions about him, getting his personal information. Looking for weaknesses, are you?"

"More like a date," Dorian quipped.

That was the wrong answer. Hawke grabbed him roughly by his collar, hauling him almost off his feet. Fenris was quick, pulling a dagger and pressing it to Hawke's throat, while Anders shouted at them all to stop. Cassandra drew her sword, but held.

Dorian put his hands up in surrender. "I was joking. Merely joking. I wouldn't dream of coming between you and your Herald."

Hawke growled, largely ignoring Fenris's dagger. "Don't joke."

"Hawke!" Anders stood, fists clenched, an exasperated look on his face.

Hawke released Dorian slowly, eyes sliding to Fenris. His expression was hard to read, but Fenris assumed it was something along the lines of, 'If he tries anything, I will kill him.' While Fenris would give his life for Dorian's, he wondered if it was possible to save someone who was so very intent on annoying a man like Hawke. He sheathed his dagger, shaking his head as Dorian smoothed out his robes.

"You invite trouble upon yourself," Fenris said. He was annoyed in part that Dorian would flirt so openly with Anders, who was obviously taken. Even without Cullen's warning, it was plain to see how protective Hawke was over him. It was as if Dorian enjoyed tempting fate. And the other part of him was jealous. Not of the flirting, but of the attention that Dorian lavished on the other mage. Like a child with a shiny new toy.

"Nonsense," Dorian said, falling into step with Anders again, separated by Hawke. "So, Anders," he said, glancing past Hawke as if there was nothing unusual about what just happened, "you left the Wardens?"

"It's complicated. But yes."

"Sounds like it," Dorian said carefully. "I won't press. But after that, when you went to Kirkwall, what happened? Why Kirkwall?"

Fenris, who was walking slightly behind the group, watched Hawke slide his hand into Anders', squeezing it. He wondered if he should speak up, stop Dorian's natural curiosity.

"I had a friend who transferred from the Fereldan Circle. There was some… disturbing news from the Gallows. Mages who passed their Harrowing being made Tranquil against their will."

"Is that… is that normal?" Dorian asked, a hint of fear in his tone.

"Tranquility was never meant to be used as a punishment," Cassandra spoke up. "The reports from Kirkwall were disturbing on both ends. Misuse of power from the templars as well as blood mages running rampant in the city."

"Blood mages that _I_ took care of," Hawke growled. "It had nothing to do with what was going on in the Gallows. Shame none of your reports contained a damn thing about Alrik. Or Karras."

"Both of whom you 'took care of'," Cassandra replied with a huff. "There was no due process. But I concede your point. Even if Meredith hadn't fallen to madness, the entire affair was handled badly. The only thing we can do now is move on from it and hope to change things before the entire world falls apart."

"If I'd known I would have gotten more results with the Seekers than with the grand cleric…" Anders said, sounding pained.

"What _are_ the Seekers of Truth?" Dorian asked, directing the question at Cassandra. "They don't exactly exist in Tevinter."

Leading the group, she turned back to address the question. "We… They," she corrected, "watched the templars and the mages both, answering directly to the Divine."

"So you're saying you could have prevented everything that happened," Dorian ventured. "With Kirkwall and the Circles and the rebellion?"

Anders shook his head. "We shouldn't focus on that. And it's not Cassandra's fault, so don't blame her."

"Thank you, Anders, I can fight my own battles," Cassandra said with a huff. But Fenris noticed her expression softened ever so slightly.

"Now we're just all working together to get the Breach sealed. Or that's what we should be focusing on," Anders added. "I don't know why I was chosen for this." He held out his hand, looking down his palm. "But if it means I get another chance, a chance to help the mages, then I'm going to take it. And I'll think about the what-ifs later."

"You truly believe Andraste saved you?" Dorian asked quietly.

Silence for a moment, then Anders nodded. "Andraste or the Maker. Someone kept me safe from that explosion."

"Whatever it was," Hawke said, "we're damned lucky."

Anders smiled at him, but it was sad, and faded just as quickly. "I wish I knew what happened. If there had been a way to prevent it…"

"Stop," Cassandra said, before Hawke could speak. "It does not help to dwell on it. You were not the cause. The Divine would not have called out to you the way she did if you were. And we all heard the other voice at the temple. That is what we should focus on. That is the one we are looking for."

"Echoes of the Fade," Anders explained to Dorian, who was looking at him curiously. "Whoever or… whatever caused it was talking to the Divine. I don't remember."

"Don't strain yourself, love," Hawke said, releasing his hand to wrap an arm around Anders' waist. He kissed the top of his head, hugging tightly before letting him go. "Look. We're almost there."

Fenris looked up. Just visible at the end of the road, perhaps less than a mile ahead, were the gates to the capital. He saw Dorian tense, and stepped in line with him. Feeling bold, he touched Dorian's wrist, and returned the smile that came quickly, if uneasily.

"I'm fine," Dorian assured him in an undertone. "Best get this over with, though."

"Let us hope we're well-received," Cassandra said, though her tone indicated she knew better.

Whatever happened, Fenris hoped they wouldn't end up having to fight the whole of Val Royeaux just to escape.


	10. Chapter 10

Val Royeaux went about as well as Cassandra had expected it to. At the very least, Anders was not arrested and put on trial. Cullen's suggestion of sending Inquisition soldiers to 'guard' the capital was heeded, serving the dual purpose of giving the citizens a sense of security and keeping an eye on the members of the Chantry still left in the city. With the Lord Seeker removing the templars from the capital, it also removed the option of approaching the Order, at least for now. Fenris thankfully missed the argument that Cullen had with Anders regarding this. He saw the aftermath of it though, Anders hurrying from the chantry, Hawke shouting at Cullen regarding, 'Anders' condition.' He wondered what it meant, if something happened to Anders that the mere mention of templars upset him that much. He remembered Anders' "headache" the first time they met, how it usually happened when templars were brought up. Whatever it was, Fenris knew he wouldn't get an answer now.

It was late in the evening and Fenris hadn't seen much of Dorian upon returning to Haven. He learned to trust him not to travel outside the town without him, a promise that Dorian made to him in all seriousness. After another brief conversation with Solas, listening to a story about a battle fought long ago between humans and elves, Fenris stopped by the tavern to collect some food, hoping that Dorian hadn't eaten yet. The sounds of the town during the day all but disappeared as the citizens started to settle. Fenris realized they were lucky to have a tent to themselves within the wall that surrounded Haven, and ducked inside.

Dorian looked up, his staff propped up against the tent pole, the tip lit up with magic. He cradled a book in his lap, legs crossed as he sat on one of the bedrolls the Inquisition provided them. "You're a saint," he proclaimed, reaching for the food that Fenris handed down to him.

Fenris tied the flaps of the tent closed, trying to keep out as much of the cold as possible. He pulled off his boots and sat across from Dorian in the small space, their knees nearly touching. On the road the past few days they stayed in taverns along the highway, expenses paid by the Inquisition. While not always the height of comfort, it was far easier sleeping in a bed next to Dorian's than in the close quarters the tent provided.

"You are capable of fetching your own meals," Fenris said, feeling rather grumpy.

"Indeed, but I think that would shock and alarm you to the point of wondering if I were ill."

"If you were ill, I would take no issue with bringing your meals."

"I seem to recall you complaining the entire two days I was sick on the boat from Kirkwall," Dorian said, closing the book and tossing it toward the foot of the tent.

Fenris scoffed, starting in on his food, some dried meat and bread. "Did you hear the argument from earlier?"

"I did. For a former templar, Cullen appears to still have a soft spot for the order. Understandable as Cassandra similarly defends the Seekers. I can't say I'm in much a position to judge them, all things considered."

"And we leave for Redcliffe tomorrow?"

"We do. I daresay you're as excited as I am to see Alexius and Felix."

"I am," Fenris said, without a hint of embarrassment. There was no shame after all in admitting that he missed his family. "I worry that Hawke will be unwilling to talk to them."

"Well, it's not Hawke they really need to talk to, is it?" Dorian paused. "Is that why he doesn't like me? Does he think you're my slave or something?"

Fenris shook his head. "No. We talked about that, actually. He doesn't approve of slavers, but I assured him I'm here by choice."

Dorian snorted. "Alexius isn't a 'slaver'. He just… keeps slaves. There's a difference. He doesn't go around collecting refugees and capturing innocent people to sell them on the block. And he certainly doesn't _buy_ the unwilling ones."

"To a man like Hawke, I'm not sure there's a distinction," Fenris said, brushing the crumbs away. "He keeps to himself, but I did learn his father and sister were mages. Both dead. He doesn't speak of any other family except for Anders."

"Mm. And what I learned from Anders," Dorian said, waving a hand to turn out the light of his staff, "is that Hawke was all he had before coming to the Inquisition." He settled down on the bedroll, pulling the woolen blanket over his shoulder. "Sad, really. But it explains why they're so protective over one another. I can't imagine how difficult it was for them."

Fenris lay down next to him, peering at him through the darkness. "What else did he have to say?"

Dorian sighed, shifting onto his back, one arm crooked under his head, the other resting on his chest. "We talked about a lot of different things. Magic and the Circles. He told me about his escape attempts. Apparently Cullen was a templar in the Fereldan Circle, then in Kirkwall. It's how he came here – Cassandra recruited him."

"Hm. So he's known Anders for quite some time."

"They have some history, yes. But like most of the people around here, they're looking at Anders as Andraste's Herald. Whatever he's done in the past, it seems that's all washed away. That's not to say everyone agrees. I'm fairly certain that Leliana – the redhead? – has people trailing him just in case. Assassins to stop any assassins. Bit terrifying if you think about it. I wouldn't want to get on her bad side."

"Since you're so good at staying on everyone's good side," Fenris muttered, half into his pillow.

Dorian rolled over to look at him. "That's hardly fair."

"You insult everyone you come into contact with."

"That's not right at all," Dorian insisted, sounding hurt.

"Hm."

"It isn't. Well, I suppose I do come across rather blunt, but what's the point in sugar-coating things?"

"Alexius was right."

"He usually is," Dorian agreed. "But what about this time?"

"In sending me with you."

"I am not a helpless child, incapable of making friends." Dorian reached over and shoved Fenris lightly.

Fenris grabbed his hand, smiling at the indignation. "I did not say that. Just that you have a unique way of stating things that some people may find… off-putting."

"Maybe you're right," Dorian said, sighing. "I can't help it. My mother says I have my father's talent for tact. Of course it was an insult, but ten-year-old me thought it was high praise."

Dorian's fingers were cold, and Fenris curled his own around them unconsciously. "You never talked about your father much. Even before…"

"You met the man," Dorian said. "What's there to say?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be. It's just… likely not something I'll be getting over anytime soon."

Fenris slowly rubbed his thumb along Dorian's hand, offering comfort instinctively. "That night that you came to Alexius's house."

Dorian swallowed, Fenris watching his throat bob with the motion. "What about it?" he asked, barely a whisper.

"Why would you agree to… You aren't a blood mage. I've never see you or Felix use it. You talk about it like it's an abhorrent thing."

"Because it can be. Using your own blood, perhaps in a spell or if you desperately needed more power… if you were backed against a wall with nothing else to use. But only as a last resort. Taking blood against another's will to fuel your own spells? Reprehensible. Disgusting. No matter what my father's done, I'll always remember what he said about it. Alexius as well. Blood magic is easy. Simple. But crude. And because it often involves demonic interference, there's always a chance for the spell to go wrong. If you were to find a way around that? To supplement with lyrium or anything else, really, it would be far better."

"I… see. But your father…" Fenris wondered if he was overstepping the boundaries of their relationship. Perhaps he should apologize and say good night now.

Dorian gripped his hand. "I don't know what caused him to change his mind. Perhaps he thought he was backed against the wall with me. That there were no other options. Maybe he was right."

"No," Fenris said suddenly, without thinking. He saw Dorian's eyes widen in the darkness, a look of genuine surprise. "He was not right. That wasn't right, what happened to you. I only wonder why you…"

"Why I agreed?" Dorian asked with a shaky laugh. "Yes, I find myself wondering too. I suppose… I was just tired of disappointing him. The weight of responsibility and guilt. I didn't want to. I don't even know if the ritual he was using would have worked. But how I felt after." He shuddered. "I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I was so sick, in a daze. I don't think I could have withstood another round. So I fled. I think perhaps he knew I was going to run. I didn't mean to drag Alexius into it. Or you."

"Alexius sees you as his son. I doubt he saw your troubles as a burden."

Dorian laughed lightly. "If I was actually his son, I doubt he would have been so lenient with me."

"He wouldn't have bled you," Fenris said with a quiet vehemence. He nearly regretted it, hoping Dorian wouldn't take offense at the slight against his father.

"No," Dorian agreed. "Perhaps not. But he wouldn't have let me get away with the things I got away with if he was my father."

"You mean your… er. Relationships."

"Relationships," Dorian repeated with a note of distaste. "Quick trysts and clandestine meetings. Careful flirtations with the hopes of a repeat performance. People like me don't have 'relationships', Fenris."

"You could."

"No," Dorian said sadly. "No, I couldn't. Not one that would mean anything. Not… not beyond friendship. Of which yours has become invaluable."

Fenris frowned, wondering if he was reading too much into the declaration. "If you wanted-"

"I think we should sleep. We have a bit of a journey tomorrow. With any luck, Alexius and Felix will already have established themselves in Redcliffe. They'll be happy to see you."

"And you," Fenris said, letting the conversation end.

Dorian squeezed his hand before releasing it, then rolled over, leaving Fenris to contemplate the complexity of their friendship before falling into an uneasy sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

"You're fairly skipping," Anders said.

Dorian grinned. "Am I?"

Fenris walked behind them, Hawke falling into step with him. It seemed to be commonplace now, unless Hawke thought Dorian was getting too familiar with Anders. For Fenris, it was easier to fall back and stay out of the conversation, still a bit uneasy around Anders and not as quick to trust him as Dorian was. It seemed he had good intentions, but an unknown mage was still an unknown mage. And this one had blown up a chantry and survived another explosion that killed so many. Whether by his own merit or the grace of the Maker, Fenris wasn't sure how close he wanted to get.

Hawke on the other hand, was just as content to walk in silence next to him, listening to the conversation ahead. Fenris could respect that. Their own conversations, when they deigned to speak, revolved around the weapons they carried, certain techniques and occasionally about the fights they had. Hawke did not embellish, and seemed to hate it when Fenris brought up a passage from his unofficial biography. According to Hawke, a lot of the story was exaggerated. He did, however, single-handedly fight the Qunari Arishok and took down a high dragon, though the latter was with quite a bit of help. Fenris couldn't help but respect him.

"Are you that excited?" Anders asked, amused.

"I haven't seen them in a very long time," Dorian said. "They're family. Of course I'm excited. So is Fenris, but you'd never be able to tell. His default emotion is brooding."

Fenris glared.

"Yes, like that," Dorian said, glancing back. He winked. "Alexius was a teacher, a mentor. We worked together for ages on theoretical and practical magic. I wrote several dozen papers on advances in magical application for a host of different things. He supported my research and funded quite a bit of it. And in return, my successes were his. And naturally, I had a lot of successes."

"Naturally," Anders laughed, the sound turning wistful. "I wish our Circles had been more like that. We had books, huge vast libraries. But you couldn't study without a templar standing there, watching your every move. And any kind of magical theory had to be approved by the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. I saw senior enchanters pulled from lessons because what they were teaching fell outside the approved curriculum." He scowled. "Ridiculous. When all they were trying to do was to show the apprentices that magic shouldn't be feared. That it's a gift given to you by the Maker, and the templars were there, reminding you that being different meant you should be locked away-"

"Anders," Hawke said, stepping up, easily separating him and Dorian. His arm immediately went around Anders' shoulders. "Calm down."

"…I'm sorry. What were we talking about?"

Dorian frowned. "Research. Perhaps we ought to change the subject, if it's upsetting."

"Keep him off templars," Hawke said, glaring at Dorian.

Dorian's eyes widened slightly, cocking an eyebrow as he glanced back at Fenris, who shrugged, just as confused as Dorian. It wasn't the first time the mention of templars upset Anders. He wondered if the rumors of templar abuses in the southern Circles weren't just rumors. If Anders suffered at their hands, it made sense. In the same vein, he hated to be reminded of Danarius, of all the times he'd been taken against his will, but was too brainwashed to understand how wrong the situation really was. A product of a terrible environment. Was Anders the same? Should he, Fenris, say something to him in private? No. Best to let Hawke comfort him and avoid the topic.

"Magic isn't a gift," Dorian said gently. "It simply is. Like a tool, like a sword. You have the ability and you have to work at it to better yourself. Fenris didn't automatically know how to wield a sharp piece of metal. He practiced every day. Just like mages should practice their magic every day."

"It wasn't that simple in the Circle. We were taught how to control it."

Dorian scoffed. "Control. What's the fun in that? Go out to an open field and let loose, I say. Rain fire and lightning and burn a few things to the ground. Blow a few things up," he said, nudging Anders in the ribs with an elbow. "How else will you learn your limitations?"

"Traveling with Hawke pushed me to my limits more than a few times," Anders admitted. "Fighting giant spiders and bandits and killing slave-… er…" He coughed.

Dorian bowed his head briefly. "Don't worry about that. There are unsavory sorts. Tell me about the giant spiders."

"Nasty business," Anders said, grateful for a way out of the faux pas. "But they burn just like everything else. Healing is more natural to me though, rather than setting things on fire."

"We make quite the pair, then!" Dorian said cheerily. "I quite enjoy setting things on fire. And as far as healing goes, well, if I had no other choice I could likely keep a person alive. Felix was better at the more subtle spells than I was."

"Were you and Felix…?"

Fenris held back a laugh. It was a fair question, he supposed, for someone who'd never seen Dorian and Felix together. They fought like brothers, finished each other's sentences, and would likely kill and die for one another. But it came with the ease of a years-long relationship without any awkward sexual tension to interrupt the easy flow of friendship.

"Felix and I?" Dorian asked, sounding almost scandalized. "What? No. It was never like that. Besides, Alexius trusts me. I would be a poor beneficiary of his generosity to repay him in such a way. Also Felix was born with the good fortune to prefer the company of women. Last I heard, he was indulging in the dreary steps heading toward married life."

Hawke made a noise that caused Dorian to turn. "Nothing," Hawke said. "Only that I've been there. Or was put there by my mother."

"Dreadful business, arranged marriages," Dorian agreed. "And when you told her you were quite content with Anders?"

Anders blushed slightly.

Hawke shrugged. "She died before we really had that conversation."

"Oh." Dorian seemed at a loss with the abrupt declaration. "I… I am sorry."

Hawke frowned. "It was a long time ago."

"Yet…" Dorian cleared his throat. "You have my condolences. It's not easy to lose family."

Fenris felt sorrow rising in his breast; empathy for Hawke. He'd lost a father and a sister, and now to learn he lost his mother as well? It couldn't have been easy. He still ached on occasion for the loss of Alexius's wife, the sweet woman who died unjustly at the hands of the darkspawn.

"It's fine," Hawke said. "I have Anders."

"I haven't spoken to my parents since I was taken to the Circle," Anders said, moving the conversation forward. "Not that I would ever want to see my father again. He didn't approve of my magic. But my mother… I have a pillow she hand-embroidered for me. The only thing I was allowed to take with me."

"Horrid business, the way things are handled," Dorian said. "But things are changing quickly. Maybe once you talk with the Grand Enchanter, the Inquisition can reform the Circles to be schools rather than prisons."

Anders frowned, shaking his head. "I'm not sure bringing the Circles back at all is a good idea. It would just give the Chantry leave to take control again. To force them back to the way things were. To… to use the Right of Annulment like they did."

"Yes, but the Chantry can't do anything right now without a figurehead to lead it," Dorian pressed. "You're in the best position at the moment to change things. Don't worry," he said, sliding his arm around Anders' shoulders. "I'll be here to help you."

Fenris saw Hawke's fingers furl into fists, eyes fixed on Dorian's arm. Anders was smiling though, and it seemed to be the only thing holding him at bay. Fenris wondered if Dorian bothered to take a second to think about what he was doing, or if he truly couldn't help himself.

"Well," Anders said, "we can definitely use all the help we can get at this point. We can't afford to be picky right now. The good publicity we've garnered from helping the refugees and clearing out the Hinterlands? Making it safe for travelers and merchants? That can only go so far."

"One step at a time," Hawke said.

Dorian glanced back, letting his arm slide from Anders' shoulders. "Alexius will want to help. And if he doesn't, Felix will force him into it. He's good like that."

Hawke, who looked as if he was debating stepping between them once more, grunted. "Let's hope you're right."


	12. Chapter 12

"This place has changed since last I was here," Hawke remarked, standing atop the hill overlooking the city. "Then again, the last time I saw it was before the Blight hit."

"Did you grow up here?" Dorian asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"No. Lothering. A few miles east. But we were here for a bit before we had to move on again. I never came back. Didn't want to be arrested for being a deserter." Hawke scowled.

"Deserter?" Dorian looked toward him as they started down the path.

"Ostagar. Such a bloody mess. When the main body of the horde broke through the vanguard, it was chaos. The beacon was lit too late-" He shook his head. "Too many good people died that day. Friends… lost my brother. Bad business."

Fenris frowned. It seemed every memory for Hawke was painful, filled with loss. It was no wonder the man acted the way he did, especially when it came to Anders.

Dorian inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry I asked."

"Ancient history," Hawke muttered. "Let's find your friend."

They passed dozens of people, catching snatches of conversation. Fenris heard the loud, excited whispers of, "The Herald!" and wondered just how far the news of the Divine's Conclave spread. They stopped periodically down the path, people simply wanting to gawk at Anders to touch his hand, to thank him for the things he'd done, to ask for his blessing. It was almost as if Anders was Andraste herself, descended from the Golden City to deliver the wretched and poor. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or be in awe.

"Is it like this everywhere you go?" Dorian asked. "Personally I would have demanded a red carpet. Perhaps some fresh fruit? Offerings of gold and spices."

Anders laughed lightly. "No. No this is… it's less to do with what they think of me and more what I've done. What the Inquisition has done. I can't take all the credit."

"You give yourself too little, it seems," Dorian said. "You're a beacon of hope for these people. Not just some far off old crone sitting in some palace somewhere. Oh I'm sure the Divine was a perfectly nice person, but you, my friend, are real to them. Could do a lot with that."

Fenris didn't miss the rising blush in Anders' cheeks, the modest smile that brightened his face. Nor, it seemed, did Hawke, who marched ahead, leading the way through the crowd.

"Should check the inn," he said shortly, and jogged up the steps toward the Gull and Lantern.

Fenris felt the magic in the air, more pronounced inside the tavern than outside, more concentrated. He glanced around, immediately ill-at-ease. While he'd spent his life around mages in large groups, attending parties for both Danarius and Alexius, they'd all been magisters and their families. Mages who could control their magic, who were taught from a very early age. These were all unknown, all apostates now, Circle-trained or not. Dorian glanced back at him, reached up, and cupped him gently under the ear, thumb brushing his cheek.

"It's fine," Dorian said, reassuring him.

The intimacy of the touch served the dual purpose of calming Fenris and taking his mind off the ambient magic, and he calmed down at once, nodding. Dorian released him, his skin tingling where his fingers had been.

"So," Hawke said, looking around. "Where do you think-"

"DORIAN!"

Fenris felt his chest tighten, heart beating quickly as he recognized the voice. A second later Felix barreled through the crowd, throwing himself at Dorian, who caught him in a tight hug, laughing. Fenris couldn't stop himself from smiling, and let out a surprised, "Oof!" as Felix hugged him next.

"Maker, I've missed you both," Felix said, stepping back. "You a bit more than Dorian," he teased, nodding at Fenris.

Dorian clutched his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me! How could anyone not miss me the most?"

Hawke muttered something under his breath which sounded like, "Easily."

"Forgive Dorian's rudeness," Felix said, holding his hand out toward Anders. "Felix Alexius at your service. I hope Dorian's told you about my father and me, or this meeting may be slightly awkward."

Anders shook his hand firmly. "He has. Only good things. You can call me Anders, and this is Garrett Hawke."

Hawke's expression was stony, appraising Felix. Felix was a good head shorter than Hawke and thinner, even if Hawke hadn't been wearing the armor that made him appear much broader than he was. His eyes flicked to the staff on Felix's back, to the leather potions case on his belt, and finally he shook his hand. "Just Hawke," he said simply.

"It's good to meet you. The entire town is talking about the Inquisition. We have a lot to discuss. My father's upstairs. Come, I'll introduce you."

"How is he?" Dorian asked, taking the question from Fenris's mouth.

"Doing well enough," Felix said, leading the way upstairs. "I was going to stay behind but he insisted I come. Even if meant leaving Livia behind."

"Livia? Not Herathinos?" Dorian wrinkled his nose in distaste, mustache bristling. "She was to be my intended. How did _that_ happen?"

"Oh no," Felix said. Livia Larentino."

"Larentino? Wait, as in Markus Larentino, her father? The one owns half the banks in Perivantium? _That_ Livia Larentino?" Dorian laughed.

Fenris heard the name before. The Larentinos were in fact bankers, and extremely rich, extremely old money. The height of the Altus class, someone in her family tree married an Antivan noblewoman with ties to the Crows. The details of the genealogy were fuzzy to him, but they were rumored to be connected to the royal family somehow.

Felix smirked, shrugging embarrassedly. "We met at a party shortly after you left and things just… clicked. Honestly I didn't even figure out who she was until I spent a few days in Perivantium to meet her family."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Of course you didn't, you uncultured brute. Does her father like you?"

Fenris saw Hawke's expression darken slightly, or perhaps it was simple boredom. Anders was smiling ever so slightly, Felix and Dorian's excitement contagious. The conversation died out as Felix knocked on a door, waited a second, then opened it. Inside, Alexius was standing, looking out the window, a petite elven woman sitting on the bed, hands folded in her lap.

Alexius turned. "Felix, have you-" He stopped. "Dorian," he breathed, sounding relieved more than anything.

The smile on Dorian's face faltered only slightly, and Fenris felt the worried tension between them. While they'd parted on good terms, he couldn't imagine what Dorian's leaving did to the good graces between Alexius's family and the Pavus household. Alexius held out a hand and the tension snapped, Dorian hurrying to cross the room. Alexius drew him into his embrace, kissing his cheek.

"Good to see you in one piece," Alexius said, holding him at arm's length. "And speaking of-" He glanced at the group milling in the doorway.

Fenris stepped forward, slipping between Hawke and Anders. "Master," he said without thinking.

Anders gripped Hawke's wrist quickly, stilling Hawke's knee-jerk reaction to go for his sword.

Alexius either didn't notice, or chose not to comment on it. "We've missed you, my boy." Arms open.

Fenris didn't hesitate, feeling relieved to walk into his embrace, gentle fingers at the back of his head, lips pressed against his temple. Alexius never hid his affection, but it was one of the first times in his memory that Fenris could recall being treated like one of Alexius's sons, rather than just a favored servant. He knew he would have to explain later to Hawke, if only as a simple courtesy, as to why he found it difficult to address Alexius as anything else other than 'Master.' For him now, it was more an honorific than a true title. Calling him 'ser' or 'messere' or any of the dozens of other titles he could have chosen just felt wrong. If he were bolder, he might have asked Alexius if he could address him as 'Father.' A part of him actually believed Alexius would allow it, too.

"This is Grand Enchanter Fiona," Alexius said, stepping toward the bed, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.

Fenris watched Felix exchange a look with Dorian, the former winking subtly, while Dorian's eyebrows rose in surprise. He wondered if that meant what he thought it did. Was Alexius involving himself romantically with an elf? They'd joked about it a long time ago when Alexius and Fiona were exchanging letters, but her race was never mentioned. Grand Enchanter or not, the scandal it would cause in Tevinter would be phenomenal.

Dorian turned to make his own introductions. "Garrett Hawke who prefers to be called by his surname and not his lofty title, and Anders who is the one they are calling the Herald of Andraste."

"I also prefer not to be called by my lofty title," Anders said, shaking hands.

"You are well-known. Both of you," Fiona added, shaking Hawke's hand next. "And what the Inquisition has done already for Redcliffe and Ferelden."

"I'm hoping to help the free mages too. Shall we get down to business, then?" he asked with an eager smile, and they settled for negotiations.


	13. Chapter 13

The small room was crowded with the seven of them in there, but it afforded them the privacy they needed. Fiona settled on the bed, crossing her legs, while Felix took up a spot at the desk, pen in hand to write down any pertinent information. Fenris remained standing, Hawke having the same idea as they flanked the closed door. Should anyone attempt to interrupt, they would be there to put a stop to it before a would-be attacker could get to the mages inside the room. Anders sat on the bed as well, facing Fiona, looking as if he was trying to decide how to begin.

Alexius saved him the trouble. "I've invited Fiona to bring her mages north to Tevinter. They would be apprenticed and within ten years' time, fully fledged members of the Imperium."

Dorian frowned. "That's not exactly what we were hoping for, Alexius."

"We need mages to help seal the Breach!" Anders exclaimed, hands balled into fists, pressed into the mattress. He was glaring at Alexius. "We came here under the impression that you would be willing to help." His glare slid from Alexius to Fiona, who was looking pink-faced.

"The Breach is important," Fiona agreed. "But something else is happening here. King Alistair has allowed us to stay in Redcliffe for now, but I've heard strange things from the castle. Arl Teagan left not too long ago, riding on horseback with a contingent of soldiers. The bridge to the castle is broken, and no one has seen anyone come out since then," she said. "It's all very strange."

"So why not rebuild the bridge and walk up to the gates and give it a good knock?" Dorian asked. He was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, arms and legs crossed.

"Two of my senior enchanters have. They haven't come back. I fear the worst."

"So what are you thinking?" Dorian looked at Alexius.

"We left as soon as we heard the Elder One dispatching his Venatori out west. Unless someone left in secret before us, we should have been the first to arrive. But it's too coincidental to imagine yet another group trying to usurp the Arl's seat," Alexius said. It sounded as if he'd given this a lot of thought. "It has to be the Venatori, but how? And more worrisome, why wasn't I informed?"

Dorian inhaled sharply. "So this means that they likely know you're not interested in joining their little party."

"I'm afraid I'm not as adept at subterfuge as I thought," Alexius admitted. "Yet, since my correspondence with Fiona began long ago, I was able to warn her against them, and offer sanctuary for her mages." He looked at Anders. "What of your Inquisition?"

"We have mages in our ranks already," Anders said eagerly. "All sorts have joined us. Everyone is welcome."

"Seems a good formula for getting yourself killed," Dorian said. "Though Leliana takes care of the less savory parts, I expect."

"She understands that Anders' safety is paramount," Hawke chimed in. "He's the only one that can seal the rifts. Regardless of what anyone thinks, he's the only hope we have for closing the Breach, even if we need help." The last was directed toward Fiona, as he fixed her with a cold stare.

Alexius cleared his throat. "Regarding that. The few meetings that I've had with the others, the Venatori, they seem obsessed with you."

"Me?" Anders asked, frowning. "What would they want with me? I thought they were interested in the mages. Or power. Surely they don't think that I would consent to join them in… whatever it is they're trying to do. I never wanted this power. That's _not_ why I followed this path."

"We know, love," Hawke said, assuring him.

"More likely they're interested in the magic in your hand," Felix corrected. "The ability to close the rifts. Apparently it can open them as well."

"It can?" Anders asked, looking at his palm. The magic was dormant now. "I'm not sure even how it works. Not even Solas could explain it fully. We're working to research, but mostly I just…" He shrugged.

"Wiggle your fingers?" Dorian suggested. "Amazing how that works. Most magical discoveries happen that way, you know. Then the scholars just work backwards from there."

"So what are they going to do?" Hawke asked, pulling the conversation back around. "The Venatori? Kidnap Anders?"

"I'd like to see them try," Dorian said. "Man's more well-guarded than a Chantry priest's virginity."

Felix snickered while Alexius shook his head. "Colorful as always," he sighed. "As I'm no longer privy to their movements, or more likely they'll feed me false information, I'm afraid I won't be able to help you there."

"There's nothing you could have done," Anders assured him. "We're not asking for that. Just whatever else you might know. And to rescind the offer you extended to the mages so we can use their help. Even after the Breach is sealed, we're going to need to bolster the Inquisition's strength for whatever happens next." He looked at Fiona. "You voted against the Circle. Surely you have ideas. The mages are looking to you for guidance. You won't throw them back into their prisons."

"No," Fiona answered. "I would not see the Circle reinstated the way it has been. But the College of Magi must be reestablished."

"That will be one of the things we need to focus on after," Anders said. "But we'll need _you_. I… have spoken with the First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle. When she realized who I was, we ah… Didn't quite get along."

"She's a bitch," Hawke said bluntly.

Fenris caught the slight smile from Fiona before it faded.

"She is an outspoken Loyalist who's enjoyed many more freedoms than most," Fiona said.

"A rather diplomatic answer, all things considered." This from Alexius. "Go on," he added, nodding to Anders.

"Most of the free mages followed you," Anders continued. "They rally behind you. Even if I were to ask for their help, they don't see me as a leader. Until not too long ago, I was just some refugee healer in the sewers of Kirkwall. You've worked your way through the Circle, you stood with them when they wanted to secede. You must see why the Inquisition needs your help, both with the Breach and after."

Fiona looked to Alexius, who nodded. She turned back to Anders. "The mages who wish to leave with Magister Alexius after the Breach is sealed must be allowed to do so. I will not go back on my promise to them. But those who want to stay to help the Inquisition after, to reform the College of Magi, will stay."

"And you?" Anders asked hopefully.

Fenris watched her turn back to Alexius, who smiled softly. Felix cleared his throat, exchanging another look with Dorian, who smirked. A stranger pairing Fenris never saw. Part of him, however, was pleased. Alexius deserved happiness after what happened with Florentina. In a way, he felt relieved of the guilt that had always been quietly tucked away, his inability to save his mistress.

"I will stay for as long as I can be of assistance. You'll need all the help you can get when it comes to Vivienne and the Loyalist mages."

"We'll figure out what to do," Anders said, breathing a sigh of relief. "After the Breach is sealed. First thing's first."

"Well, now that's figured out," Dorian said, clapping his hands together, pushing away from the wall. "I think some type of celebration is in order. Perhaps a party with music and dancing and-"

An explosion of green light filled the window, and Alexius turned at once to peer out.

"Not exactly the party I was hoping for," Dorian said, following the others to crowd the small space.

"Is that…" Felix started, before turning to look at Fenris.

Being much shorter and nowhere near the window, Fenris couldn't quite see what the others were seeing. "What?"

Alexius looked back at him, expression hardened as he reached for his staff. "Danarius."

Fenris felt his heart drop into his stomach.


	14. Chapter 14

A burning, acrid scent permeated the air, the previously cool breeze across the lake turning sour and hot. Fenris could feel it, thick and cloying in back of his throat, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to swallow. A tear in the Veil, a brilliant verdant cluster of pure magic hung ominously near the docks, Danarius standing just beside it, staff in hand. Fenris hung back, pulling his sword, remembering the last time he saw his old master. Erimond's party, Dorian held a knife to his throat. He wasn't alone then and he wasn't alone now. In fact, he had Alexius and Felix with him now, and Hawke. Though they hadn't known each other long, he knew Hawke would never allow Danarius to take him again.

"Alexius. So good to see you," Danarius said, his tone smooth and calm despite the clamor around him.

Residents of the town scattered, running for cover as demons appeared from the rift, two towering, lanky terrors with their limbs akimbo flanking Danarius. A wind kicked up from the magic in the air, the waves of the lake slamming the docked boats against the piers. Alexius gestured to Fiona, jerking his head toward the Gull and Lantern. She hesitated, but nodded and fled to the inn to keep her mages back, to keep them safe.

Danarius let her go, glancing into their small group. "Is that my Fenris? Good morning, pet. How are they treating you?"

Fenris gripped his sword, feeling a cold sweat break out across his brow. Dorian moved immediately in front of him, blocking his view, staff out, his palm already full of flame and ready to strike. He seemed to be waiting for Alexius's cue. Likewise Anders had drawn his staff and Hawke his sword, slightly in front of Anders.

"Danarius," Alexius said, stepping up. He held his own staff loosely in his hand, as if he wasn't staring down demons and the magister that controlled them. "Last I heard you were still in Minrathous. Did the Elder One see fit to send you after me?"

Danarius chuckled. "My dear, dear Gereon. Did you think the Elder One wasn't aware of your plans? Half-baked as they were. As they always are."

"Yet I managed to legally snatch your precious 'pet' out from under you."

Hawke glanced back at Fenris, who tried to keep his expression neutral. They would need everyone focused in this fight if Danarius summoned more demons, if the rift opened wider to allow more through.

"We'll see what happens when this is all over."

"How did you get here before us?" Felix demanded.

"Ah, the young pup follows in its father's footsteps. Demanding answers from me. You should hold your tongue when you're amongst your betters."

Fenris scowled, pushing through the crowd, ignoring Dorian's warning, "Fenris!" as he stepped forward. He lifted his sword, lyrium brands glowing brightly, fueling his own power. "You should shut your mouth then, Danarius!"

Danarius raised an eyebrow, reaching slowly into his robes. "You used to be such a polite boy. The time spent in an uncivilized house has changed you." He withdrew an amulet on a golden chain. The prism-shaped pendant glowed with the same sickly green color of the Breach, crackling with energy.

"Maker's breath," Dorian gasped. "Is that-"

"The fruits of your research. The Elder One thought it interesting, and since neither of you guarded your notes, I was able to procure them easily through one of my own loyal house slaves. Do you honestly think I would have allowed you to purchase them otherwise? I admit I was hoping for Fenris to return to me as well. I assume he found your bed warmer than mine, Alexius."

"You disgusting son of a bitch," Dorian spat.

"Oh, I see," Danarius said, smirking. "Not Alexius's bed, then."

Fenris was glad no one could see him blush. Danarius couldn't have guessed his feelings for Dorian, grasping at straws to goad them into attacking foolishly.

"Regardless, I am not here for you, pet, or even your new master." Danarius's eyes slid to Anders. "The Elder One only wants the Herald."

Hawke stepped forward. "You'll have to go through me."

"Gladly."

A sudden burst of black electricity shot from the tip of Danarius's staff, catching Hawke in the chest, throwing him off his feet. Anders shouted, dropping to his side in a second, and Fenris felt the thrum of a magical barrier around him. An inhuman shriek filled the air, one of the terrors suddenly appearing in the middle of their group. A loud _thwump_ , _thwump_ , _thwump_ shook his very core as the demon threw wave after wave of some foul magic that kept him rooted to the spot. He tried to wrench his foot up, to flee from it, and ended up flat on his back, sword raised. The terror demon shrieked again, leaning over him with its jaw unhinged. It lowered itself, ready to rip his throat out.

"No you don't!" Felix shouted, bringing his palms together, a coil of magical energy between them. He thrust them outward in a flash, the ball of shadow blasting the demon sideways, interrupting its containment spell on the others.

Fenris leapt to his feet, ducking a wild blow from the demon, jumping up a second later to avoid being knocked down again by its tail. He brought his sword down in a sweeping diagonal movement, slicing it cleanly in half. The legs continued to work, even as the arms flailed, trying to catch his ankles. He jumped backward out of its reach. Tendrils of fire danced along the ground, twisting and turning, and Fenris saw Dorian feet away, manipulating them into devouring the pieces of the demon.

"Close the rift!" Alexius shouted, locked in combat with Danarius.

If Fenris hadn't previously known the power either man was capable of, he would never have believed the sight before his eyes. Despite their age, they moved as agilely as the other mages on the battlefield, Alexius leaping up to a stone wall to gain the height advantage. Danarius pulled the very earth up around his feet to act as a shield, hurling boulders at Alexius, who spun easily, deflecting them with his staff, blue-white lightning surrounding him, keeping him safe. A whirlpool of lake water shot up toward Alexius, enveloping him, and for a moment it looked like Danarius had gotten the upper hand. The water turned red, mixing with fire in an unnatural combination, which exploded upward and would have rained down on Danarius had he not summoned another shield, a swirling mist of white that took the boiling hot barrage.

A dozen dazzling bits of starlight flew from Alexius's staff, ripping holes into Danarius's shield. Danarius let it take most of the damage, then allowed one to tear across his arm, leaving his robe sleeve in tatters, a streak of blood running the length of his forearm. He sneered, flicking droplets of it to the ground where they sizzled, each growing wider and turning black before elongating, stretching toward the sky, turning into shades, their eerie cyclopean eyes glowing from beneath an oily hood of shadow.

"Look out!" Fenris shouted, as one appeared suddenly behind Alexius.

Alexius turned in time, blocking the shade's blow with his staff. Fenris turned to see Dorian and Felix ducking, dodging another terror demon, trying to keep it distracted from Hawke and Anders. Fenris raced toward them, slashing through a shade that started to head their way. He drew level with Hawke, creating a protective line around Anders, who thrust his hand forward, a crackling green light shooting from his palm directly into the rift.

"Just a second longer!" Hawke bellowed.

With a loud cracking _BANG_ the rift disappeared, imploding, leaving behind clear blue sky, the lake calming at once. Anders stumbled and Fenris was there first, catching him with one arm, keeping him from falling. He dropped his sword, unprepared for the heavy weight, Anders unable to stay on his feet. His eyes glowed with a blue magic, his skin peppered with cracks of the same color. Surprised, Fenris nearly dropped him and quickly lowered him to the ground. Hawke was there in an instant, shoving Fenris aside, cradling Anders.

"It's all right, I'm here. You're fine," Hawke said, cupping his cheek. "Open your eyes, sweetheart."

Anders did, and they were free of magic, dazed and unfocused, but the dark amber color they usually were. The cracks in his skin faded and Anders smiled, gripping Hawke's hand. "I'm here," he assured him.

Fenris climbed to his feet, grabbing his sword. They weren't out of this yet. He rushed back into the fray, phasing into his spirit-like form, passing through a shade before whirling and bringing his sword down, slicing it two. A white-hot burning pain shot up his back and he fell to his knees. Someone yelled his name; he heard the pounding of footsteps on the cobblestone. Dorian knelt next to him a moment later, hand hooked under his arm, hauling him up.

"Move! Move, Danarius is calling an ice storm!"

"Dorian!"

Alexius called out, whatever he was shouting lost in the fray of magical energy, the lake whipping up once more. The temperature dropped rapidly. But instead of snow, a blanket of white to blind them, the same sickly green glow filled his vision. He threw up a hand, covering his eyes, leaning heavily on Dorian, trying to stay upright. The world spun wildly and he felt like he was going to be sick. His feet left the ground and he clung to Dorian, the only anchor in a swirling tempest, and prayed for it to end.


	15. Chapter 15

His feet hit solid ground and he tipped forward, landing hard on his hands and knees, sword clattering next to him. The stone beneath him was cool and cracked, not the same cobblestone they'd just been standing on. He swallowed and tasted the coppery metallic tang of blood. He swallowed again, trying to quell the nausea he felt, to stop the dizziness. A cool hand touched the back of his neck and he jerked away, raising an arm defensively before he realized it was just Dorian, and settled. Icy fingertips worked the base of his neck, moving up to his hairline and he shivered, thankful at the relief it brought. Once the nausea passed he felt the pain in his back and tried to crane to see the damage.

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked.

Fenris looked over at him, crouching there looking winded and filthy but otherwise unharmed. "I think I'm bleeding."

Dorian looked, hissed, making a face. "Hard to tell but there's definitely blood. Hold still."

Fenris winced as fabric was torn open, leaving his back bare. Deft fingers made quick work of his breastplate and pauldrons, and Fenris shifted to his knees to remove his gauntlets and what was left of his tunic. Sounds of footsteps and he grabbed for his sword, stopping only when Dorian touched his arm.

"Hawke and Anders," he said, standing. "Glad to see you're both all right."

Fenris looked up. Hawke's armor was covered in blood and spatters of black ichor, some kind of demonic innards. Anders was windswept but intact. He immediately knelt, his hands glowing blue and warm.

"Let me heal you."

Fenris nodded, shivering when Anders touched him, felt the skin repair itself, his markings flashing in reaction to the bursts of healing magic. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain they caused him, knowing that it was preferable to whatever might happen should his wounds remain open, especially considering their new circumstances.

"Where are we?" Dorian asked, looking around.

"Redcliffe castle, I'd guess," Hawke said, following his gaze.

Anders wiped away the rest of the blood with Fenris's torn shirt. "It's done for, I'm afraid," he said apologetically.

Fenris tossed it aside, standing, stretching, testing the muscles in his back. He took his breastplate and examined it. The leather strap that held it together in back was still intact, and with assistance from Hawke, he managed to slip it back over his head, leaving the spiky gauntlets and pauldrons in a pile on the floor. It was odd, the metal cool against his skin without his tunic, but it would serve some protection at least.

"Strange design," Hawke commented.

"Not all of us can carry fifty pounds of plate mail and still move," Fenris said, more lightheartedly than he felt.

"So if we're in the castle…" Dorian crossed his arms, a thoughtful crease to his brow. "Oh. Oh I see."

"You see what?" Hawke asked.

"Danarius used the results of years of research to create an amulet that would manipulate time. It's not really _where_ we are, but _when_. And if this is Redcliffe castle-"

They looked around. The stone walls were crumbling, falling into disrepair. Everything felt musty and damp, the sounds of dripping echoing from far off. Banners depicting wolves and dogs and countryside scenes were torn, left to rot, and in their place, Tevinter heraldry. Fenris shuddered, recognizing the dragon Danarius used for his own house sigil hanging next to a few of the other banners.

"The future, I think," Dorian said, inspecting the tapestries. "Certainly not the past, but if this is the future, then it's a bleak one indeed."

"You researched _time_ magic?" Anders asked, eyes widening.

Dorian turned, grinning, hands on his hips. "Well, it was all just theory back then. Alexius and I would talk about it, but anything put into practice just sort of… fizzled out. There was no real interest in it, research-wise so our focus shifted toward repairing the Circles. Physically, that is. Rebuilding crumbling walls and updating the libraries, fixing broken plumbing and all that rot. He poured a lot of his own fortune into it." He frowned. "My own father supported it." There was a careful, casual shrug as he sighed, dropping his arms to his sides. "It seems that Danarius was playing the long game."

"The long game?" Hawke asked. "What, of any of this, is a game?"

"He sent me to spy on Alexius," Fenris admitted. Though he knew Dorian likely had figured that out for himself, had probably spoken to Alexius about it, it still shamed him to admit it. "And several others. I should have been more diligent in finding out who the spies were."

Dorian shook his head. "Alexius knew. He also knew that you had a change of heart."

Fenris blushed and lowered his eyes, still feeling the guilt of it, remembering the day Danarius gave him the task. "You must think poorly of me."

"On the contrary, I think you chose well," Dorian said lightly. He rolled his eyes and grabbed Fenris by his shoulder, warm fingers on his bare skin. "Once we find Alexius and Felix, you can have a conversation with them about this. Apologize if you want to, though you must know it's not necessary."

"We should get going," Hawke said gruffly. "Danarius might not even be in the castle."

"Is there a way to reverse it?" Anders asked, as they followed Hawke out of the room. More crumbling walls beyond, chunks of stone that made it look as if the was caught under siege and never repaired.

"Theoretically, yes. It would be infinitely easier with that amulet. There are usually always ways to reverse a spell. Unless of course the spell was designed in the first place to be irreversible, I suppose."

"I… see. What else is reversible? I mean, you're Tevinter so you've studied all this, right?"

Hawke glanced back at him. "Anders."

Anders shook his head. "I'm just interested in the theory, love. I promise I won't…"

"Promise what?" Dorian asked, voicing the confusion Fenris felt. "Are you afraid I'm going to wrap your dear Herald up into something sinister? That I'll twirl my mustache while laughing evilly as I bleed him out for some demonic ritual?" He kept his tone light, but Fenris heard the disgust behind it.

"No. Not the twirling and laughing part at least," Hawke said.

"Funny, that's the part that's more likely," Dorian countered, stroking the end of his mustache, goading him.

"He's afraid I'll do something stupid to myself," Anders explained, clarifying nothing.

"I would love nothing more than to sit in front of a fire with you, discussing all sorts of magical theory, perhaps while we sip wine or brandy. Makes me homesick. Of course, Hawke would be there sitting between us, the ever present chaperone to make sure you don't fall for my seductive charms."

Anders laughed; Hawke did not. "Here I thought I was the charming one," Anders said. "No, I was specifically wondering about the reversal of spirit possession."

Dorian cocked his head, looking at Anders as they walked the castle, Hawke leading them up and through the halls, away from what appeared to be the kitchens. "It's a school of magic. Necromancy, specifically, talks about the possession of a dead body by a spirit or demon. Usually a spirit, as they're less volatile than demons. I can personally call up quite a few to do that, though it's a bit of a delicate procedure and takes a lot of power to keep them from turning. The more powerful spirits tend to have stronger wills, but use a weaker spirit and you don't get the same results. Use a demon and… well. Let's just say if you're unprepared for that, things can get messy. Exorcising them is difficult but not impossible. A lot of the time they leave on their own accord. Rather rude, but easier than banishing them."

"I didn't mean of a corpse. Of a human. A living human," Anders clarified.

Dorian frowned, brows furrowed. "You're talking about abominations. It doesn't happen often in Tevinter, at least not officially. No one talks about the mage who accidentally made the wrong deal with a demon and ended up eating his slaves before burning his house down. That sort of thing is swept conveniently under the carpet, away from the Chantry's prying eyes. Unless of course it was all a plot to bring that family into ruin in the first place, in which case –" He clicked his tongue. "Right to the front page of the newspapers the next day."

"What about humans who are possessed who _don't_ turn into abominations?"

Fenris gaped, thinking he suddenly understood this line of questioning. "Your eyes. The magic in your skin. Are you an abomination?" He'd heard the rumors in Tevinter, but dismissed them immediately as fabrications.

Hawke stopped the group and turned, taking Anders by the arm and dragged him back, slightly behind him. "If you use that word again-"

"Hawke, it's fine," Anders sighed, pulling his arm from Hawke's grip. He placed a placating hand on Hawke's breastplate, stepping forward, looking from Fenris to Dorian, whose eyes widened with the question. "I… well. Most of the Inquisition already knows. Cassandra and Cullen. Varric, of course, since he's known us such a long time. Solas has… been helping me understand it more. There was so much I didn't know when I agreed."

"You _are_ an abomination?" Dorian asked, rapt with interest.

"It's not like that," Anders insisted. "Justice was my friend. When I was a Warden, something happened. We were stuck in the Fade together and when we came out, Justice was trapped outside. He inhabited a corpse of a deceased Warden and he was upset, confused. We – my friends and I – helped him. And we talked. For a long time, Justice and I talked. Back then I was… angry. Scared. I hated the Circle passionately but I was helpless to do anything."

Hawke gripped his shoulder gently, then slid his hand around his waist, offering comfort. Anders leaned against him slightly as he spoke.

"He wasn't a demon. He's not. He was my friend. There was no manipulation the way a demon does, twisting your desires. We made a promise to one another. We would bring justice to the mages of Thedas. Stop the Chantry's subjugation and see an end to the persecution. Things have been… difficult. But I understand more now than I did. So long as I continue to fulfill our purpose, Justice's purpose, he remains calm. I can use the power he can give me to bolster my own magic. But sometimes he just… he gets… angry." The last word was whispered, and Hawke pressed his lips to the top of Anders' head.

Dorian pressed a palm against the hallway's wall, leaning heavily for a moment as he turned this over in his head. Fenris felt slightly ill. Abominations were dangerous. He'd seen a few himself, including Namir, one of the house slaves that Danarius had sold to Alexius. If it hadn't been for Dorian, he might have lost that fight. But Anders didn't seem inclined on turning into a twisted, mangled mess of flesh and bone. Whatever was inside him, he appeared to have control over. At least for the most part, and often assisted by Hawke.

"Are you in danger of losing control and killing us?"

"Fenris!" Dorian said, laughing incredulously. "What a question."

"It's justified," Anders said seriously. "If that were to happen… if I were to lose control… Justice seems to listen to Hawke. And as I've said, I've been speaking with Solas, who understands spirits better than anyone I've ever met. It's been years, and Justice is calmer now than he's been. When I use the mark though, it's like he comes to the surface. When I seal a rift, when I can feel the Fade inside me, sometimes I black out. It happened when I tried to seal the Breach."

"So whatever we do, just don't piss off the spirit inside your head," Dorian said. "Sounds easy enough. After all, I quite like you. What's a little possession between friends? Right, Fenris?"

Fenris nodded mutely, obviously supposed to agree. He wasn't sure, though. Spirits could be manipulated, corrupted. And abominations were unpredictable. For now, Anders was an ally. But what would happen if something went wrong? If he sealed a rift and was unable to control himself after? Would Hawke really stop him? Would he be willing to cut Anders down?

"When we get out of this," Dorian said, reaching out to clasp Anders' arm, smiling, "we'll see what I can find as far as separation research goes. Between my brilliant mind, Solas's odd penchant for spirits, and your determination, we'll come up with something."

"Thank you," Anders breathed.

"And," Hawke started.

"I'll make sure it's nothing that would cause me more harm," Anders assured him. "So you can stop worrying." He leaned up to press a placating kiss to Hawke's lips.

Hawke gave a disbelieving grunt, but remained silent and continued to lead them. Fenris followed, wondering just what else could possibly go wrong.


	16. Chapter 16

Fenris wrenched the sword from the soldier's body with a wet squelch. Venatori guards wearing Tevinter armor roamed the castle, and they found the latest on the steps leading up to the courtyard. His skin chafed where his breastplate dug into it, and he reluctantly removed one of the soldier's armor to relieve him of his tunic. It was too large but intact, and rolling up the sleeves and tying his belt around it, he was able to still wield his sword. Ridiculous as it looked, it made his armor more functional than going without.

"Shame," Dorian commented idly as they opened the doors to the courtyard. "I was hoping the shirtless-with-armor look would catch on."

Fenris was about to retort, perhaps to flirt back, to dare Dorian to say something else, when Hawke swore loudly. They all looked up into the sky, gaping. As far as they could see, it was a greyish green, the same color of the Breach. But that couldn't be possible, could it?

"It spread," Anders whispered, pressing his palms to his forehead. "I'm fine," he said to Hawke a second later. "I'm fine. I can feel Justice, but he's not… It's fine. We're not in the Fade, it's just… so close."

"We have to find a way to fix this," Hawke said. "If we get to Danarius, you're sure you can reverse it?" He looked at Dorian.

"It might take some time to work out the spell, but I believe so. The magic came from research _I_ helped develop. It's finicky and delicate. The way Danarius wields magic is like a sledgehammer. This requires a more refined touch."

"Then let's hope we find him soon," Hawke grunted. "That looks like our destination." He gestured across the courtyard to two large double doors. 

The stairs were blocked by rubble and several corpses, both human and demon. A felled tree added to the obstacle, its branches twisted, the wood rotted through. The grass was yellow and dead. Nothing had grown here for quite some time.

"There," Anders said, pointing to a set of stone stairs that led to the ramparts. "We can get up over the door and drop down to avoid climbing over. I'd rather not risk anyone getting hurt by trying to shift it."

"Good plan," Dorian said, leading the way across the yard. "If Alexius and Felix are here, perhaps we can find them and rally. Come up with a way to make sure we can subdue Danarius. Fenris, you know him best. Does he have any weaknesses? Other than his wardrobe, I mean."

Uncomfortable as it was to think about Danarius, to recall memories of his time with his former master before his life changed, Fenris knew Dorian was right. He thought for a moment. "Pride. If he believes he's winning the fight, he will make a mistake. His overconfidence is his weakness."

"So we play possum, let him think he's beaten us, and then strike when his back is turned. It's so simple it might just work – Maker's breath, what the bloody flames is _that_?"

They reached the top of the ramparts, the castle overlooking the lake and the town. Over the lake, hundreds if not thousands of green and white wisps glided across the choppy surface of the grey water. Fenris felt Dorian grip his arm, fingers biting painfully as they surveyed the scene. On land, even more demons, all of them in neat rows. The buildings were gone, torn down and cleared away to make space for the massive army. A quarter of them shone more brightly than the others, molten red hot rage demons, while another quarter comprised demons of desire. Fenris could just make out the swishing tails, the horns, a dull mottled purple color amidst the muted backdrop. Further up the hill he saw at least a dozen hulking pride demons, their horns protruding from their thick, armor-like skulls.

"Who's controlling all of them?" Anders asked, hands gripping the stone rampart, leaning forward to peer across the lake.

"There, on the hill," Hawke said, pointing. "I can't make out the uniforms. Humans."

"More Venatori," Dorian guessed. "That would take an astronomical amount of power. There have to be thousands of them, and just in Redcliffe? I'd hate to see what the rest of the world looks like. This is their base of power, I expect."

"The sooner we find Danarius, the better," Hawke said, pulling Anders away from the edge. "Come on. Work to do."

Fenris looked down where Dorian clutched his arm and gently took his hand. "We'll prevent all this from happening," he assured him. "We'll stop the Venatori."

Dorian laughed lightly as they followed Hawke and Anders. "So confident. It's just that I've never seen… Never could have imagined. Is this really what they want? I don't agree with the villainous cliché of taking over the world but that's a more admirable goal than simply burning it all down. Or letting the demons pour in from the Fade. It's like they're barely holding back the tide. What happens when the leash breaks and they can't control them anymore? Demons hell-bent on the destruction of humanity. What's the point of ruling the world when there's nothing left to rule?"

"Some people just want to watch it burn," Hawke said. "I've met a few in my time. Never good to let them live. So we find Danarius, get back to the present time, hunt the Elder One and kill him."

"Admirable sentiment," Dorian agreed. "Though there is the one thing."

"What?"

"We don't even know who this 'Elder One' is let alone where to find him."

Hawke looked at him. "I never said we kill Danarius. We find him. And make him talk."

"Oh jolly good," Dorian said. "The Inquisition advocates torture, then. Glad to know it."

Anders shook his head. "No. But Danarius is the best chance we have right now of finding out the Elder One's identity. Cassandra or Cullen will know what to do. I trust them not to use… brutal methods."

"Funny how having your former Knight-Commander turn into a red lyrium statue gives you a change of heart when it comes to mages," Hawke said, kneeling down. It was still quite a distance to the ground. "I'll go first." He lowered himself, gripping the rampart and released, landing in a hard crouch that cracked the stone.

"All right?" Anders asked, peering down.

"Bit sore. I'll be fine," Hawke called up.

"Red lyrium?" Dorian asked. "The book mentioned it, but never went into details."

Anders spoke reluctantly. "A nightmare in itself. If we get out of this, maybe Hawke will good enough to regale you with the story. Maker knows I will only be too happy if I never have to think about the bloody Deep Roads ever again. Fate usually has other plans for me, though. Don't drop me!" This last he said to Hawke, before descending in the same fashion, his fall broken by the warrior's embrace. "Good catch."

"Lightweight," Hawke said affectionately before waving to Fenris. "You next."

Fenris strapped his sheathed sword to his back and slowly lowered himself down. He found a few footholds in the stone and managed to descend a few feet before letting go, cushioned by Hawke.

Dorian hesitated. "Did I mention I dislike heights?"

"If you hurt yourself, I'll heal you up," Anders promised.

"That's not exactly reassuring," Dorian bit back, turning to lower himself. "Stone's a bit slippery. A little – AH!"

He lost his grip and Fenris was there before Hawke, catching Dorian around the middle, the impact knocking him off his feet. He felt his elbows scrape hard against the ground, breath escaping him. Dorian groaned, rolling over, while Anders stifled a laugh.

"Yes, very funny. Let's laugh at Dorian's lack of climbing ability," Dorian said, wincing. "Fenris, did I break you?"

"No," Fenris muttered, sitting up, dazed. Hawke hauled him to his feet, brushing him off. "I'm fine," he assured him.

Anders helped Dorian up, inspecting him. "Nothing damaged?"

"Just my pride," Dorian sighed. "Let's leave this part out when we recite the heroic tale of how we saved everyone."

"Maybe," Anders teased. "After all, you did make quite a funny noise when you slipped."

Dorian scoffed. "I did not."

Anders grinned, pushing the doors to the castle open, and Fenris followed, hoping this would be over soon.


	17. Chapter 17

"I just had to ask about the red lyrium, didn't I?" Dorian said. "Is it… Why is it growing out of the walls?"

"Do you really want an answer to that?" Fenris asked.

The hall off the courtyard was vast, obviously meant as a vestibule for gathering nobles. There were five doors, two on either side across from one another, while the fifth, larger and more ornate than the others, sat at the far end.

"At a guess," Anders said, "that likely leads to the throne room. And probably where Danarius is."

Fenris inspected the lyrium, though dared not to draw too close. It pulsed with some malevolent energy, making the lyrium in his skin ache and itch.

"We saw red lyrium at the Temple of Sacred Ashes," Anders said. "After the explosion. We thought it was a coincidence, but seeing it here… does that mean the Elder One knows about it? Is he using it somehow? And why?"

"Maybe Varric has more information," Hawke said. "He was researching it after what happened to his brother. Otherwise, there's always Sandal."

"Sandal?" Dorian asked. "Please tell me he's an expert in all things strange and terrifying."

"Close enough," Hawke said. "He's a dwarf. An enchanter. Never met a better one. He's worked with the red lyrium before so he might have an answer. Or rather, his father might. Last I heard they were heading for Orlais. Maybe Leliana can track them down."

Anders pushed on the door at the top of the hall, frowning at the ornate design, running his fingers over what looked like a pattern of runes. "Locked. By some kind of magic?"

Dorian knelt down to have a closer look. He concentrated his mana, palm filling with a purple-white surge of light that he pressed to the design. It fizzled. "Not traditional magic. But look, it seems like some sort of carving, like something should fit here. Six in all."

"Great," Hawke sighed. "It's never easy, is it?"

"If it was easy," Dorian said, "we'd all be lounging around a lovely great sitting room while scantily clad servants brought us wine and fed us grapes."

"…No thanks," Hawke said, narrowed eyes flicking to Fenris.

"His mouth often moves before his brain can catch up to it," Fenris said, not offended by Dorian's statement of fantasy, but finding amusement as Dorian scrambled for an apology. He waved it off. After all, it was Hawke who'd been put off by the statement, and Fenris didn't find the notion of feeding Dorian grapes all that distasteful. "We'll search the side rooms, then. Perhaps the guards have something key-like on them."

One of the doors was completely caved in, red lyrium protruding from the entrance. They chose another and walked the dark corridor beyond, Fenris trying to keep his bearings. It would be unlucky to get lost in the castle now that they had a proper objective. A double-back staircase led them to a lower floor and through another hall that revealed several empty bedrooms.

"Maybe the Arl's family lived here?" Anders guessed, shifting through one of the desks. "I'm not seeing anything that looks like a key, though."

They spread out, searching each room for anything that could possibly fit the markings in door. Fenris's brands started to itch, burning in his skin. He was about to remark on it when the door of the room burst open, three soldiers on the other side.

"Get them!" one of them shouted.

Fenris leapt forward at once with Hawke at his side. The four of them worked together quickly and easily to dispatch the soldiers, Anders keeping them protected with a barrier shield while Dorian cooked them inside their armor. With no demons to fight and no rifts to seal, they barely broke a sweat to bring them down. Fenris sheathed his sword and knelt, lyrium still twinging in his skin, and searched the bodies.

"This," he said, coming up with a prism of red lyrium, surrounded by a twisting copper design. "It seems to be a small shard, shaped like one of the impressions on the door."

Anders leaned over, reaching out to touch it, then thought better. "Perhaps you or Hawke should hold onto that. Who knows what unrefined red lyrium can do to a mage."

"Let's find the other pieces quickly," Dorian said. "Mages aren't the only ones affected by lyrium, after all."

It was decided that Fenris and Hawke would trade off every fifteen minutes, just in case. Scouring the rooms revealed two more pieces and they were forced to backtrack to the main hall where they left their findings hidden carefully in a pile of rubble near the door.

"It's unlikely anyone's going to come up this way unless they're going to see Danarius," Anders said. "And from the looks of it, there aren't many people left in this part of the castle. …Maybe he's had most of them executed. Or fed to the demons."

Fenris didn't want to think about what Danarius was capable of in this reality. Infinite resources? The backing of someone as powerful as the Elder One appeared to be? He likely had dozens if not hundreds of slaves to do his bidding, and Fenris counted himself lucky that he ended up being propelled into the future, instead of having to suffer at his hands. But how many _did_ have to suffer? Suddenly it wasn't a matter of simply saving themselves anymore.

Almost as if his thoughts were being projected, they heard a scream echoing down the hall. They ran toward it without hesitation, Hawke kicking in the door where the screams grew louder. Fenris ducked a blow from one of the men in the room and phased his fist through his attacker's chest, wrapping his fingers around the man's heart. There was one moment of almost comical wide-eyed realization as Fenris pulled it from his ribcage, leaving him dead on the floor. Hawke and Dorian took down the other men, Hawke's broadsword sweeping the head clean from the shoulders of a Venatori agent. Anders was already pulling a key ring from the wall, and Fenris turned to see their victim.

"Are you all right?" Anders asked, undoing the manacles from Leliana's wrists. He helped her to the floor, arm wrapped around her waist.

Fenris briefly met Leliana in Haven, but never spoke with her after. He knew her job involved secrets and spies, and from what he heard, she was very good at what she did. The room they found themselves in was unlike any Fenris had ever seen. Implements of torture laid out on the table, chains and manacles hanging from the ceilings, a fire pit in the corner of the room and a wall of spikes on the other, containing the remains of a human corpse. It stunk of death and decay, and every surface was stained with blood.

"I knew you would come," she said. "We knew you were still alive."

"Time magic," Anders explained, forcing her to sit on a table. Her arms and legs were bare, angry red brands and knife wounds marking her skin. He started to heal her, scowling when she pushed him away. "You're hurt."

"We need to stop this. What happens to me is inconsequential."

"What year is it?" Dorian asked. "How far into the future did we go?"

"It's been over a year since the Elder One took this place," Leliana answered, pulling a cloak around her shoulders, yanking the hood up. She limped to a crate in the corner of the room, pulling out a bow and quiver.

"An entire year?" Dorian repeated, sounding winded.

"Think of all the parties you never got to attend," Hawke said acidly.

Dorian glared at him. "Now that's unfair."

"This is your fault!" Hawke said, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Hawke!" Anders snapped before Dorian could retort. "Stop it. Both of you. This is no one's fault but Danarius's."

"This magic," Leliana said, "no one should have this power. We need to stop him. Come."

Fenris knelt, checking the pockets of the felled Venatori and came up with two more lyrium crystals.

But Hawke wasn't finished, clearly unsettled by the room they'd found themselves in and the obvious implications. "If you hadn't researched this, or if you hadn't left the notes where a sadist like Danarius could find-"

"Yes, let's start throwing around blame!" Dorian snarled. "This is exactly what I wanted to happen, since I'm from Tevinter, I must have been hoping for the end of the known world, right? _Clearly_ I'm pleased with the fact that your friends were captured and tortured for a year!"

"Stop it!"

Fenris blinked, realizing it had been himself who yelled. Normally he was the reserved one, trained to be quiet, to be seen and not heard. To obey and follow orders. While he'd managed to allow himself a biting sense of sarcasm over the last several months, he rarely if ever shouted. And never at Dorian.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," he said, covering the awkward silence. He handed the lyrium shards to Hawke. "We're missing the last."

"I think I know where to find it," Leliana said. "You have the others? The magister has locked himself in the throne room."

"We have them," Anders said. "They're safe. Where's the last?"

"I will show you. But… you should prepare yourself. It is far worse than what you see in this room."

Fenris swallowed hard, exchanging a look with Dorian. He knew what he was thinking, what they all were thinking. What could possibly be worse than this?


	18. Chapter 18

They were silent as they followed Leliana through the maze-like halls. Dorian looked as if he wanted to ask her questions, but the hard-set line of Hawke's jaw kept him silent. Fenris walked level with Dorian, hand brushing against his in what he hoped was a comforting way. Dorian flexed his fingers, entwining them with Fenris's, the backs of their hands pressed together. It was simply for reassurance, Fenris told himself. An upsetting, jarring situation and they were drawing comfort from one another. Yet he couldn't stop his heart from beating faster, the nervous fluttering feeling in his stomach as Dorian's thumb stroked his.

"Here," Leliana said. "There will be one guard. Likely asleep. He will have the last key, I am sure. Ready yourselves."

Fenris let go of Dorian's hand reluctantly as Leliana opened the door. The guard was there as she said, and asleep. She drew an arrow, nocked it, and with deadly precision shot him cleanly through the neck. There was a gurgling noise, the man's eyes opening briefly in surprise, and then he was dead. Fenris couldn't help but be impressed with her marksmanship, his own training in ranged combat somewhat lacking. Ruthlessly she yanked the arrow from his throat, inspected it, and returned it to its quiver.

"It is done. You'll want to search him," she said, moving down the row of cells.

Fenris followed her, peering into them, finding it odd that the Venatori would put red lyrium behind lock and key until suddenly he realized that the shards of lyrium weren't growing out of the walls and floor. His stomach clenched as he approached one, reaching up, one hand curled around the bars. "Cassandra," he whispered.

"What is left of her," Leliana confirmed.

The Seeker's body was twisted, lyrium protruding from her skin, growing from her open lips, her eyes blank and dead. Though death seemed like a mercy compared to what agony it must have been. He only hoped it was quick, but somehow doubted that.

"Sweet Andraste," Dorian breathed, coming to stand behind Fenris. "How in the Maker's name did that even… I don't think I want to know."

"No," Leliana confirmed. "You don't."

"Are…" Dorian swallowed. "Felix? Alexius?"

Fenris pushed away from the cell to examine the others, feeling sicker and sicker as he examined them. Solas, kneeling on the ground, lyrium cutting through his skin like a starburst, Varric, torn in half by the shards, Josephine, the Inquisition's ambassador, lyrium wrapped around her eyes like a blindfold, her arms pinned to her sides.

"She deserved better," Leliana said, ignoring Dorian. "They all did."

"But they're not here," Dorian said, sounding as if he wasn't sure if he should be relieved. "Were they tortured?"

"They may be with the magister," Leliana said, in the same cold, dead tone. "Herald, do you have it?"

"Yes," Anders said, standing by the door, pointedly not looking at the cells. "We should… If we… We can reverse time. Fix this. Make it so this never happened."

"It happened," she said, stalking past him and Hawke, who followed. "For me, for millions of others. The rifts started changing here, affected no doubt by the magister's time magic. The Breach grew. We had no way to seal them. We were overrun and then… an army of demons swallowed Haven. Orlais sent help, but not even the chevaliers could stop them. Then we received word that Empress Celene was assassinated. Orlais fell next, Ferelden with her. King Alistair was given the choice to step down or be killed." She paused, taking a shuddering breath. "He was executed, beheaded on the steps of the palace in Denerim. He told us to keep fighting, to never give up. I… knew him. We fought together during the Fifth Blight." She fixed Anders with a stare. "You must change this future."

Anders nodded determinedly. "We will. I swear it."

They gained the vestibule and Fenris retrieved the shards. Together he and Hawke arranged them into the door and Dorian knelt again to inspect it, fingers ghosting over the indentations. He pushed a ball of black energy into the lock and stepped back. It lit up, the lyrium pulsing red and white, and a loud clicking sound resonated through the hall. The door split cleanly down the middle and slid open to reveal the throne room.

It was a vast chamber which looked largely untouched, it lacked the debris and general run down appearance of the rest of the castle. They moved inside as a group, Fenris peering through the dim, the only light a roaring fire at the far end. He saw the throne and while the man sitting on it was hidden in shadow, he knew it must be Danarius. On either side of him stood two more lyrium statues, and kneeling at his feet, another man, shoulders slumped in defeat.

"That's…" Anders gasped.

"Welcome," Danarius said, leaning forward slightly so they could see his face. "My, my, it has been a long time since I've seen you. Leliana, it's so wonderful of you to bring them here."

"I did not do this for your _benefit_ , magister!" she snarled, drawing her bow. "You will die here."

"Mm. Wishful thinking, I believe."

Fenris recognized the man at Danarius's feet. Dressed only in his smalls, a silver collar around his neck, was Commander Cullen. He rocked back and forth slowly, shivering, in the throes of what Fenris assumed was addiction. Or possibly withdrawal.

"Ah Fenris, admiring my new pet," Danarius said, drawing his fingers through Cullen's hair.

Cullen leaned into the touch, eagerly turning his face toward it. Danarius pulled a vial of lyrium from his pocket, uncorked it, and let a bit of the liquid dribble over his hand. Cullen immediately leaned up, lapping at the offered potion, tongue sweeping over his skin. He sucked the lyrium from his fingers, pulling each digit into his mouth, moaning quietly as Danarius continued to feed him. Fenris clenched his fists, filled with rage and embarrassment. It could have easily been himself. Not addicted to lyrium, but to his master's touch.

"He's a poor replacement," Danarius said. "Much easier to break than you were. But I'll have fun reconditioning you."

"You will not touch him," Dorian growled. "What have you done with-"

"Ah, the little Pavus. Or is it? After all, it was confirmed that your father disowned you. He's dead, by the way. Didn't want to join us so ultimately he was useless. Unlike your friend here." He stood and gestured to one of the lyrium statues.

"Felix, no," Dorian moaned, taking a step forward, stopped by Hawke.

Fenris saw it. The statue to Danarius's right was in fact Felix, a hardened red stone of lyrium, face twisted into a gruesome scream. On his other side was Fiona, head bowed but recognizable by her stature, her clothing. If both were lyrium, that meant that Alexius…

As if reading Fenris's mind, Danarius chuckled. "And your new master was so upset with the loss of his son, I had to do something to put him out of his misery."

"You killed him," Fenris growled, tempted to put an end to this right now. But he wouldn't allow Danarius to play him that way. He would not be goaded into a premature attack.

"No, no. He was too valuable. We appreciated his research, after all. Gereon. Come."

Heads turned as another figure emerged from the shadows in the corner of the room. Fenris's eyes widened and he heard Dorian's gasp.

"Yes?" Alexius asked, his tone flat and dead. On his forehead was a sunburst, not the Orlesian Chantry's, but the Imperium's, a wicked and spiky looking emblem.

"Take care of your son and your lover for me," Danarius ordered.

Alexius removed a cloth from his robes and stepped up to the statue of Felix and started to polish it.

"He was willful, even as a Tranquil. You know, I always thought the practice a bit barbaric but it turns out the southern Chantry had its uses."

"You will pay for this, Danarius," Fenris growled, sword in hand.

The mages drew their staves, Hawke holding his own sword at the ready.

Danarius laughed, the door at the end of the hall slamming shut. "And do you really think you can defeat me? I, the Elder One's right hand. Do you think he left me with nothing to stop the Herald, knowing he would return?"

"What then?" Anders asked, challenging him.

The firelight flickered and the room grew warm. Danarius retook his seat, sitting back, crossing his legs. A shield of swirling white mist sprang up around him as the hall filled with demons.


	19. Chapter 19

He remembered his life before. Before he was given to Alexius, before he left Tevinter to follow a man he had no right lusting after. His life before was uncomplicated, simple. Danarius told him what to do, what to say, how to act. He followed his training routine and impressed and intimidated the right people. His master praised him and he never hoped for more. And then it changed. Over the course of almost two years, he found himself doing and saying things he never thought he would. He was no longer anyone's pet, no longer Danarius's "Little Wolf." Solas's words echoed through his mind as he swung his sword, fending off the demons that seemed never-ending.

_"Are you?"_

_"Am I what?"_

_"A wolf."_

He was. Before he was a lone wolf, small and toothless, defanged by his master, kept on a leash, bound by chains. Made to look pretty, to growl at the ones that came too close to Danarius. But the leash had snapped and the chains broken, and here he was now, ruthless and fanged, abilities sharpened and honed, and he was lethal. Phasing through a terror demon, he exploded it from the inside out before leaping forward to cleave a shade in two. Deadly. Quick.

And no longer alone.

Though they'd spent a few short weeks with the Inquisition, he took their companionship, the comfort they offered. Watched as they laughed and joked with one another. He found himself with Alexius and Felix, no longer a brainwashed slave, but a respected and trusted servant, a friend. With them he was elevated, free. And he would save their lives and the lives of all the others who suffered at the hands of his former master. He would not let this future come to fruition.

"Hawke!"

Anders cried out, eyes flashing blue, and Fenris was there too late. Hawke fell, a hooded despair demon thrusting its twisted claws through his breastplate, protruding out his back. Fenris brought his sword down, lopping off the thing's head, but the damage was done. Blood poured from Hawke's mouth, and Fenris thought this was just a bad dream. Anders fell next, distracted by Hawke's demise, a greater terror backhanding him effortlessly across the hall. He slammed into a pillar, head cracking against the stone.

"Save the Herald!" Leliana shouted, her quiver empty. She pulled two deadly looking daggers from her belt and continued to fend off the onslaught of demons.

Fenris ran to Anders, pulling him to his feet. "You need to close the rift!"

Dazed, eyes unfocused, Anders didn't seem to realize where he was. Fenris grabbed his wrist and thrust his palm outward toward the rift. Even as it started to close, he heard Leliana's scream, a blast of fire, and saw her fall. The rift closed and Anders collapsed. Fenris couldn't bear his weight. Slowly he lowered Anders to the floor as is breathing slowed, and he fell unconscious. And Dorian…

"Careful, pet," Danarius called from the top of the hall.

Fenris turned, sword in hand. He felt a trickle of blood or sweat slide down his cheek, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the room. Danarius gripped Dorian by the hair, holding him on his knees. Behind Danarius, Cullen sat, half-hidden by the throne and Alexius stood just off to the side, watching impassively. The dust settled, the demons dead. He was alone now, his companions dead or unconscious. All but Dorian, who grabbed at Danarius's hand, wincing as he tried to stay upright.

"Let him go, Danarius," Fenris said, slowly stepping forward, holding his sword at the ready.

"And why should I do that? I admit I am a little jealous. You seem to have found such a fine replacement for me." Danarius hauled Dorian to his feet, wrenching back his head. He pressed his lips to Dorian's exposed neck, then inhaled. "Yes, I think I like this one. Altus blood, powerful. He'll be fun to break."

"No!" Fenris growled, standing now just feet away. He wouldn't risk attacking, not yet, not when Danarius could slit Dorian's throat.

"Drop your sword, Fenris."

The use of his name, the name that Danarius bestowed upon on, compelled Fenris to obey. That and he was sure that Danarius wouldn't hesitate to kill Dorian if he refused. The metal clanked against the stone at his feet. Danarius smiled, cold and cruel. He released Dorian's hair, snapping his fingers. Two black chains sprang up from the ground, ethereal manacles, claw-like and writhing covered Dorian's wrists, pulling him back down to his knees.

"Come here."

Fenris climbed the steps of the dais, pulling back as Danarius reached out to touch him. The sharp stinging of the slap around his cheek was familiar. An instant punishment for his bad behavior. He let Danarius take his chin in hand and looked into his former master's cool grey eyes. He smiled, his teeth perfectly white and straight, and chuckled, pulling him even closer. Fenris didn't fight the kiss that came next, allowed the tongue that thrust gracelessly into his mouth, and felt sick. Danarius never _kissed_ him. Not like this. Not like a lover would.

"You'll be mine again," Danarius said. "Try to fight it, and he dies."

More smoke-like chains emerged from the ground, one wrapping around Dorian's throat, pulling him forward. He struggled futilely against it. Fenris watched, heart pounding, terrified and unsure of what to do. That longing of routine, of knowing exactly what the next day would bring, overwhelmed him. He couldn't make these decisions, could he? It was why he was with Dorian in the first place, because Alexius ordered it. He glanced at him now, not his master but his employer. Alexius stared blankly at Dorian.

"Whatever you're thinking," Danarius whispered against his ear, "don't. If you fight me, those chains will crush his throat. Better he live, yes, pet?"

"Fenris," Dorian gasped, trying to pull away from the chains. "Fenris, don't listen to him!"

"Make a choice, my dear," Danarius said, running his fingers through Fenris's hair. His hand stopped at the base of his neck, massaging gently. "Do you honestly think you'll be happier with him? I know how to give you the pleasure you crave. The desire to follow your master's command, to make me happy. What can he offer you?"

Fenris hesitated. It was as good as making a deal with a demon, he knew. But was it really better to continue deluding himself, to hope that one day Dorian saw him more than a servant? No. A slave. It's what he was, wasn't it? Danarius was simply reminding him. The chains may have been broken, but he'd yet to take his freedom. He was still caged, and perhaps he would always be. "I… I will…"

"Fenris," Dorian pleaded. "Don't do this, Fenris! You're not a slave anymore! Alexius freed you!"

"…And what comfort has that freedom brought me?" Fenris found himself asking.

"We're your family, Fenris! You don't belong with him!"

Fenris frowned, thoughtful. And when he spoke, he was quiet. "Where do I belong? With the Inquisition? Back in Tevinter with Alexius?" He glanced up at the Tranquil man before looking down at Dorian. It was nice to play pretend for a while, but his master was here now. He would always come back, no matter what. Wouldn't he? He wasn't sure he believed the words falling from his lips, and yet he thought he should.

"With me!" Dorian shouted. "You belong… You belong with me!"

Fenris blinked, the declaration causing a shift somewhere inside him. "With…"

"Yes!"

"Yes," Fenris repeated.

"Fenris-" Danarius started.

But too late, Fenris already phased, letting his markings flare, his body fading into its spirit-like form. Danarius lost his hold on him and before he could call a spell to protect himself, Fenris reached through his chest and viciously crushed his master's heart. Danarius's mouth opened in silent shock and he fell forward, his body passing through Fenris before slumping to the floor. The chains holding Dorian down disappeared and he was on his feet and at Fenris's side in an instant.

Unable to hold the form, Fenris let his markings dull, his body solidifying, and looked down at Danarius, dead at his feet. What had he done? But he didn't have time to think as two warm hands cupped his face. He looked up, seeing Dorian's grateful expression and he closed his eyes as Dorian kissed his forehead. Soft lips pressed against skin, and he let out a shaking breath.

"Are you all right?"

Fenris nodded numbly, though he wasn't sure if it was the truth.

"We have to work quickly," Dorian said, releasing him. He hopped down the steps and pulled Anders upright, an awkward burst of healing magic enough to wake him, but not enough to mend his wounds.

"Maker, I feel like I spent the night chugging dwarven ale," Anders groaned, still dazed.

Fenris felt shuffling at his feet and looked down. Cullen had come out of hiding and was pawing at Danarius's robes. He pulled out a bottle of lyrium and Fenris snatched it away quickly. Cullen cried out and reached for it, but Fenris turned away, crossing to Anders. He thrust the bottle into his hands.

"Heal yourself," he ordered. "We need to get out of here."

He only hoped it wasn't too late to change this future.


	20. Chapter 20

They sent word ahead after escaping the future, Inquisition soldiers flooding from the Crossroads to assist in the escort of the dangerous Venatori magister prisoner. Fenris was grateful for that. The trek back to Haven would be taxing enough without having to look at Danarius the entire way. Only he, Dorian, Hawke, and Anders recalled what happened in that horrible future. As soon as they were out, Dorian flung himself at Alexius, hugging him tightly, pulling Felix into the embrace as well, confusing both men terribly. Dorian promised he'd explain what happened, but not now. They agreed to come back to Haven, if only for a few days, before they arranged travel back to Tevinter.

Fenris felt safe surrounded by Inquisition soldiers, both Cullen's and Leliana's people. Behind them, carrying everything they owned with them, were the free mages with Fiona. Some would leave with Felix and Alexius, but most agreed to stay to stop men like Danarius. Anders was pleased with their declaration and promised they would be full allies with the Inquisition, treated as equals. This deal greatly pleased them and Fiona.

The whole affair would have ended on a high note, had it not been for King Alistair's arrival. Fenris remembered what Leliana said about him, how he'd given his life for his kingdom rather than step aside for the Elder One. The tall, broad-shouldered warrior sitting atop a chestnut warhorse looked every bit the part in the tale she told, too. He missed the argument that followed, only knowing it was about Fiona, her mages, and Arl Teagan. Anders was in a huff for several hours after they departed, only Hawke able to calm him down.

"You should come home," Alexius said to Dorian as they walked the road back to Haven.

"I still have responsibilities here," Dorian replied easily.

Fenris walked behind them, level with Felix, listening to their conversation. He couldn't help but cast continuous looks at Felix, if only to reassure himself that this was real and the visions of Felix as a lyrium statue were part of a false future.

"Are you all right?" Felix asked quietly. "Was it horrible what happened? The time magic?"

"Yes," Fenris said. He was never anything but truthful with Felix, and saw no reason to lie or sugar coat it now. "I'm…" He wasn't fine. He wasn't shaking or sick, but everything he saw, the things he experienced, he knew it would leave him with nightmares. "It was a horrible future. You were dead. Alexius was made Tranquil."

Felix swore quietly. "I can't imagine…" He took Fenris by the shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Fenris shook his head. "It is done. We stopped it."

"Still, to go through that. You and Dorian _should_ come back to Tevinter. If only to rest."

"He'll find no rest there. Not when his father is there. And I cannot leave him." Fenris was surprised by the intensity of his own words.

Felix let his hand drop, and glanced up the path where Dorian and Alexius were arguing quietly about Dorian's return. "I knew this was going to happen."

"What?"

Felix sighed, scrubbing a hand back over his short hair. "You and him. Don't tell him I said this, but he's too charming for his own good sometimes."

Fenris scoffed. "And risk inflating his already overblown ego?"

Felix grinned. "Maker perish the thought." The smile faded. "It won't be easy if you pursue him."

"I know I'm only a servant-"

"That's not what I meant," Felix said sharply. "And you're not 'just' anything, Fenris. You should know that by now. You might have been a slave, but Father saw more in you. _I_ see more in you. And we're friends. I mean that."

Fenris nodded. He knew. Felix wasn't placating him, he wasn't condescending. Even if class separated them, Felix counted him as a friend and an equal. "What do you mean then, that it won't be easy?"

"We're products of the society that surrounds us. In Tevinter, Dorian has to act the part he's given, just like I do. I find it easier just because my father… he's more lenient than Dorian's. Father found Mother on his own, no arranged marriage necessary. He was lucky. As am I," he added, with a wistful sort of smile. "I would have started the long courting process with my father's insistence in a year or two, but the Maker saw fit to lead me to Livia before I had to go through that. Dorian wasn't as lucky. He'll make himself a pariah. But it's not a bad thing for Tevinter to change, to accept that one of their upper elite houses refuses to follow tradition."

"I… am not entirely sure-"

"Dorian is interested in you. Pursue him."

Fenris gaped. "How could you say-"

"Because I've been his friend since we were young. I know what will make him happy." Felix sighed. "It's been impossibly hard for him, everything he's gone through. Coming to terms with his feelings, the realization that he would never be happy marrying and following the traditional paths. He knew his father would be furious. And now he has to deal with his feelings for you."

"Er. I…" Fenris was at a loss. He knew Dorian found him attractive. He hadn't forgotten the conversation he'd eavesdropped upon. But even with his determination to go against the grain, surely Dorian wouldn't take the next step in fully shaming his house by deigning to fall for a slave. Ex-slave. And an elf at that.

"He cares for you," Felix assured him. "And it might turn into something more, if he can push past that last thing holding him back."

"Which is?"

"You were a slave. It's not about lowering himself," Felix assured him. "We talked about other masters who took advantage. A slave can't say no. So why wouldn't their masters indulge? Dorian said – and I agree – that it's a reprehensible practice. But you're free now. You can make your own decisions. Dorian won't. He won't take that step unless you push him forward. For all his bravado and confidence, he's terrified of that temptation. He thinks giving in would make him worse than Danarius."

"And… you've talked to him about this?" Fenris asked.

"We might have had a conversation or two." He paused. "He was drunk."

"Ah."

"If it's something you want, Fenris, he would be willing. You just have to make him understand that it's what you want, that you're not just saying yes to give into his demands. It is what you want, isn't it?"

Fenris allowed his eyes to linger on Dorian, who was still conversing with Alexius. Dorian with his arrogance, confident air, handsome face and smile, annoyingly irresistible charm. He knew him well, knew what he was like when he was sick, when he didn't get his own way. But he also knew his power, his determination, and his ineffable need to better himself. He was strong, and Fenris was drawn to that. He'd been attracted to Dorian since the first day he saw him, and that hadn't changed.

"Yes," Fenris agreed.

"It won't be easy," Felix warned him. "Especially if you were to return to Tevinter."

"His father would not be pleased," Fenris agreed.

"Would you stand by him and support him?"

"Yes," Fenris said at once.

"You couldn't walk away," Felix said. "It would destroy him."

"I wouldn't want to."

"Then do something about it."

Fenris nodded. "I will."

And he would. The only question was: when?


	21. Chapter 21

Fenris did not care for being debriefed. He sat quietly with Anders, Hawke, and Dorian in the war room of the chantry. Of course, it hadn't been built as a war room, but a large table with maps, several bookshelves, and now half a dozen chairs had all been crammed into what presumably had been an office. He sat next to Dorian, knee jiggling nervously as Cullen, Cassandra, and Leliana asked dozens of questions. Josephine sat to the side, furiously scribbling down their answers. Fenris was relieved to see they were all right. Of course they would be though; they'd stopped Danarius's future from coming true.

"What I don't understand," Cassanda said, "is where did the demon army actually come from?"

"To summon that many demons and keep them under control would require an enormous amount of power," Cullen agreed. "One man couldn't do that."

"We saw a group of soldiers," Anders said. "Too far to see what uniform. More Tevinter mages, maybe?"

"And the assassination of Empress Celene," Leliana said, frowning. "We need to look into that. To find out why it happened, and stop it."

"I will send messages to the Orlesian Court," Josephine said, making a note. "As a gesture of good faith from the Inquisition."

"If you could leave out the part where we all went traveling into the future, that would be lovely," Dorian said. "The less people know about this magic, the better."

"Indeed," Hawke said flatly.

Dorian's eyes narrowed. "Still going to blame me for all this?"

"It was your research," Hawke said. "You were irresponsible with it."

Fenris saw Anders pinch the bridge of his nose. Cassandra and Leliana exchanged looks, while Cullen appeared pensive.

"Yes, it was completely my fault that a man hell-bent on… whatever it was he was trying to achieve… snuck into my patron's house to retrieve research that – mind you – was partly property of the Magisterium at this point."

"If you leave a sword lying around," Hawke said slowly, "and a child impales itself on it, then yes, it is your fault."

"Comparing Danarius to a child isn't exactly the smartest analogy, you know. He wasn't some curious kitten wandering about, sniffing at the poison traps. If he hadn't gotten the research directly from Alexius's house, he would have gotten it through the government." Dorian waved a hand dismissively as if Hawke's concerns were beneath him, and shifted in his seat, turning away from him.

"Please stop," Anders said, and all eyes fell to him at once. "We stopped it from happening. I am so tired of fighting right now. We have enough problems as it is without arguing amongst ourselves. King Alistair, in his infinite wisdom, exiled the mages from Ferelden."

"What?" Cullen asked, bewildered. "But why? The mages weren't the cause for this."

"Apparently you aren't the only one who likes lumping 'evil' mages in with the rest of us," Anders said, somewhat acidly. He sat up quickly, looking immediately apologetic. "I… Sorry," he muttered.

Cullen shook his head, frowning, but whispered a quiet acceptance before clearing his throat. Fenris knew they had some history, but obviously there was more to it than what he'd already learned.

"I will send a message to him," Leliana said. "I know His Majesty personally."

"I thought I knew him, too," Anders said. "He was there for my conscription into the Wardens. Allowed it, really. If he hadn't stepped in, I don't think I'd be here today."

Hawke reached over, a comforting hand on his back. Anders smiled tiredly at him.

"He will see reason. Don't trouble yourself further with it," Leliana assured him. "However, speaking of the Grey Wardens, I have some… odd reports."

Anders nodded, signaling her to continue.

"I have not been able to contact the Hero of Ferelden for some time. You know him, yes?" Leliana asked.

"He was my Warden-Commander," Anders confirmed. "When he left, I… didn't feel safe anymore. He was a good mage. A good man. But we haven't spoken in years. I assumed he went to Weisshaupt for orders or reassignment." He shook his head. "I wasn't interested in what the Wardens were doing at that point, other than to get as far away from them as possible, of course."

"That's the issue though," Leliana continued, "they are gone from Ferelden."

"Gone?" Hawke asked. "Just like that?"

Leliana nodded. "And when I sent my agents into Orlais to find out what happened, you can imagine my surprise when I learned they were gone from there as well."

"We have sent missives to Weisshaupt,"Josephine said, "but haven't received word back yet."

"What about Tevinter?" Dorian asked.

"What about it?" Leliana prompted.

Dorian sat back, legs crossed. "Only that there've been a lot of Wardens there lately. Or there were about six months ago, before we left." He looked at Fenris.

Fenris nodded. "Minrathous, in the city. It was strange to see them there."

"You don't think…" Hawke started, trailing off with a frown. "You don't think it's connected, do you? Wardens in Tevinter, a Tevinter magister messing around with time magic."

"We saw demons, not darkspawn," Anders said. "Though I don't know any Wardens who could control darkspawn – thank the Maker for that. Imagine a corrupt Warden wielding an army of darkspawn." He shuddered.

"But there is a possibility that they may be working together," Leliana said carefully. "I have reports of someone called Blackwall - a lone Grey Warden in the Hinterlands. We should look into it. And I will ask King Alistair if he knows anything else." She took a breath. "I think that's it. Cassandra?"

Cassandra sighed. "Nothing else at present that I can think of. Tomorrow morning we will take the mages to the Breach and attempt to close it permanently."

Hawke scowled. "You could give him a bit more time to rest."

Anders took his hand, squeezing it. "No. This needs to be done sooner than later. Hawke, would you…"

Hawke looked at him, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"Do you remember the Warden we met when the Qunari attacked Kirkwall?"

Hawke scowled slightly. "Stroud."

"Do you think you and Varric could track him down? He was heading for the Deep Roads in the Free Marches. Varric's got contacts all over. Stroud may have answers."

"If he hasn't disappeared too," Hawke said. "But I'm not leaving you."

Anders sighed, standing. The conversation wasn't over, Fenris could tell, but it wasn't one they would continue with an audience. "I'm going to get some rest before tomorrow."

They bade him goodnight, watching him leave with Hawke in tow, sounds of muted conversation in their wake.

Dorian stood. "If there's nothing else, I'll be retiring too. But I would like to see the Breach up close."

"Your assistance would be appreciated," Cassandra said with a nod. "Until tomorrow."

Fenris followed him out, and suddenly Felix's words came back to him. He would have to do something about it if he wanted Dorian. He reached out, grabbing Dorian by the arm.

"Fenris, what?" Dorian asked, and Fenris blushed slightly with the concern in his tone. "Everything all right?"

"I… wanted to speak to you. Privately."

"Well, we're headed to the tent, aren't we?" Dorian asked, eyebrow raised.

"No. Not there." He cast around and saw a door, and pulled Dorian through it. A stairwell led to who knew where, but it was private enough for now. He shut the door, leaning against it.

"Now you're starting to worry me," Dorian said. "What's wrong? You're acting-"

Fenris kissed him. He hadn't meant to; he wanted to talk, to explain to Dorian that he didn't feel like he was being taken advantage of. That this was what he wanted. Not a one night stand either. He didn't want to just be another indulgence of Dorian's. He wanted something more. Dorian's surprise was apparent in his body language, standing stone still as Fenris kissed him. It was awkward, and Fenris pulled back just as quickly.

Dorian blinked in the dim light, then licked his lips. "Well. If you're finished. I'll just…" He edged past Fenris and pushed out the door, hurrying away.

"Wait, I - Venhedis!" Fenris ran a hand through his hair, glancing down the stairs, at a loss for what to do next. It wasn't supposed to have happened like that.

An Inquisition agent – one of Leliana's people – rounded the corner and started up, surprised to see Fenris there. "Were you going to see the prisoner?" she asked. "He's properly detained so if you want-"

The prisoner. Danarius. Fenris felt himself go cold. "No," he said quickly and turned on his heel, following the path Dorian had taken.

He hesitated as he started down the main thoroughfare toward their tent. He could go talk to him, explain what he meant by it. Instead, he turned toward the tavern. A night's worth of drinking, perhaps he would find Solas there and fill him in on what happened in the future world. He could ask for another story of the Fade. Or he could track down Alexius and Felix, who would be leaving in the morning. Then again, Dorian was likely with them now. The tavern it was, then. Hopefully by the time he returned to their tent, Dorian would be asleep and he wouldn't have to explain himself.


	22. Chapter 22

Anders woke, warm and comfortable if a bit sore, curled as he so often was in Hawke's arms. It took a long time to get used to the feeling, especially the idea that he was protected and safe. To allow someone else to take up that mantle for him, to ensure that he had one less burden, it was terrifying at first. But slowly he'd gotten used to it. And whether they woke together in Hawke's comfortable bed in Hightown, or a tent on Sundermount, or some run down tavern along the Storm Coast, he didn't care, so long as he had Hawke. Which was why it was so difficult to send him away now.

They spoke at length after the debriefing, choosing to eat together alone in the small house the Inquisition saw fit to give him. He turned in Hawke's arms, reaching up to cup his cheek, fingers threading through his beard. Hawke grunted in his sleep, and Anders placed a soft kiss to his lips. Hawke stirred, eyes fluttering open.

"Mm. Morning?"

"It's still grey outside," Anders whispered. "Not even dawn yet."

"Why wake me?" Hawke asked, covering a yawn. He rolled onto his back, pulling Anders with him, tugging the covers up over them both.

Anders settled against his shoulder, hand on his chest, playing with the thick curls of hair. His thumb brushed over a nipple and Hawke grunted again, grabbing his hand to make him stop.

"I wanted to talk before you left."

Anders won the argument, of course. He often did, and wasn't sure if it was fair that he needled Hawke until he gave in, promising him that he would be all right, that he would be surrounded by Inquisition soldiers, and that he trusted Cassandra and Cullen to subdue him if Justice emerged. _That_ started another discussion about Cullen and ex-templars, but it was cut short when Anders decided he didn't want to spend their last night together having a fight. Instead, they made love, and Anders still felt the after-effects of it, his legs and backside aching deliciously.

"I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone."

Anders sighed. Perhaps talking wasn't the best course of action. He wrested his fingers from Hawke's grasp and pinched his nipple.

"Ow," Hawke growled, turning back toward him. One hand snaked down, gripping his bottom. "I thought you wanted to talk."

Anders smiled, kissing him. "Talk, not argue. I'm going to miss you. But I'll be here waiting for you when you get back. The hole in the sky will be sealed and we'll figure out what to do next. Find the Grey Wardens or rescue the Empress from a daring plot."

"We do seem to do a lot of rescuing, don't we?" Hawke quipped.

"You're good that, Champion," Anders teased, lifting his head to kiss him again.

He gasped when Hawke rolled over, pressing him to the mattress, returning the kiss with enthusiasm. Their naked bodies slid together, Anders laughing as all vestiges of sleepiness left him and, indeed, Hawke as well. The evidence of which was pressed against his hip as Hawke started to slowly thrust against him.

"I love you," Anders whispered, looking up at him, cupping his face. "More than anything in the world."

Hawke, propped on his elbows, gently leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I love you, too. Now," he whispered, bring his lips to Anders' ear, causing Anders to shiver, "spread your legs, sweetheart."

Anders laughed. "Always the romantic, you are," he sighed, but did as he was told.

-

Across the town, lying quietly on a bedroll instead of a mattress, inside his shared tent, Fenris watched Dorian sleep. He hadn't gotten drunk, though the temptation was there. He spoke with Solas late into the night, not even getting annoyed when the Inquisition's latest acquisition interrupted them to insult them by way of pointing out how 'elfy' they were being. Fenris barely met Sera previously, had no idea what to make of her, and tried his best to avoid her at all costs. It was difficult since she decided she _liked_ the tavern, and instead he and Solas moved to a less populated area of Haven just outside the gates, a fire burning between them.

Solas seemed to understand that he was avoiding Dorian, but didn't ask why. Fenris was sure he could have offered some sage advice on the matter, but then again who knew what experience Solas had with this type of problem. It was easier just to distract himself and was pleased when Solas obliged. They parted ways late into the night, Solas promising to take him into the Fade soon if he still wished it, and Fenris said good night. Dorian was either already asleep or pretending to be asleep, and Fenris didn't disturb him as he settled down.

But now it was morning and he had to get up, if only to say goodbye to Alexius and Felix. Part of him wanted to return with them to Tevinter, to leave Dorian behind and with him, the silly notion of any kind of relationship with him. Dorian had fled when he kissed him. Why? Was he scared of taking advantage of him? But it was Fenris's decision. He wanted it. He initiated it. He would have to talk to Dorian, that was all. Explain what made him do it.

"Dorian."

Silence. They were close, the tent already cramped. Fenris had even woken one morning to find Dorian wrapped around him. It wasn't unpleasant. In fact, he looked forward to it. He wondered if Dorian did as well, or if his own guilt kept him from enjoying it.

"Dorian."

The man remained obstinately asleep. Or faking it. Fenris inched closer, shivering as the blanket fell from his shoulder. He reached up, running his fingers through Dorian's soft hair, marveling at the dark strands, a contrast to his own hand with its white lyrium lines. Dorian's eyes opened.

"I…" Fenris started, then pulled his hand back quickly. "Good morning."

Dorian said nothing for a moment, looking at him with confusion. "…Morning."

So it was to be like that. Awkward. Tense. He was reminded yet again of the kiss they shared outside Alexius's house, the following days a myriad of confusion. Why couldn't he just voice what he wanted? Make Dorian realize that he could have something more with him? A sudden, horrible thought struck him. What if Felix was wrong? What if Dorian didn't want him?

"We should get breakfast. And say goodbye to Alexius and Felix. They missed you last night," Dorian said, rolling over. He sat up and dressed silently, pulled on his boots and left the tent without another word.

Fenris let out a shaking breath. After, he promised himself. After the Breach was sealed, after they found a quick respite, he would force Dorian to listen to him. And Dorian could make his choice, so long as he knew that Fenris wanted this, that he was approaching him as an equal, and that Dorian was nothing like Danarius. He dressed and left the tent, watching as Haven slowly woke.

-

Breakfast was a subdued affair, Alexius and Felix joining them in the tavern to discuss a few last minute arrangements. Alexius promised to write, that he would keep tabs on the Venatori movements best he could, and appeal to the Archon privately about the future they saw. News of Danarius's treachery would reach Tevinter before they would, and no doubt the Magisterium would want to deal with it appropriately.

Their good-byes were melancholic, Alexius once again inviting Dorian home. Dorian laughed, though it was a sad sort of chuckle, and he hugged Alexius tightly, as if he didn't want to let him go. Alexius kissed his forehead, whispering words of encouragement before turning to Fenris, who had accepted a loose, one armed parting embrace from Felix.

"I would ask you home as well," Alexius said, with a knowing smile. "But I know you won't leave him. When you're finished with the Inquisition, we'd be happy to see you both back."

Fenris nodded. "I know. And I will. I promise. After."

Alexius pulled him into a hug. "Don't give up on Dorian," he whispered, surprising Fenris. Alexius pulled back and kissed his forehead in the same way he'd done for Dorian. He winked, releasing him, and wrapped an arm around Felix's shoulders. "We have too many miles to go before dark," he said, and with one final parting good-bye, they were gone, heading down the path that led out of the town and down the mountains.

Fenris waited until he could no longer see them, feeling an aching in his chest, a longing to go after them. But Alexius was right. He wouldn't leave Dorian. He turned to him now to say something, but Dorian looked away quickly.

"Look, Hawke's leaving," he said.

"Hm," was Fenris's response. He knew Dorian didn't much care. He and Hawke had been at odds since they met.

They watched in silence as Hawke said good-bye to Anders, Varric standing a few feet away. Hawke wrapped his arms tightly around Anders' middle, kissing him passionately, bending him back. From somewhere in the crowd, a wolf whistle and a cat call. When Hawke released Anders, Anders was blushing. He said something, and Hawke nodded. Anders kissed him gently and let him go. Hawke waved to the others behind Anders, some of the soldiers who'd gathered to see him off. He nodded to Varric, pulling his pack over his shoulder, and gave Anders one last look before disappearing through the gates.

Anders stood there a moment, arms wrapped around himself, and Fenris wondered what he was thinking. What was it like to watch someone you loved so deeply walk away? To be separated from them because of duty? He looked at Dorian, who sniffed a little and turned from the scene. Fenris let him go, not following him as he left, perhaps to return to the tent to ready himself.

Fenris sighed, running a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Deciding that he best make himself useful, he started up the path toward the quartermaster to see if anything needed doing before they set about the task of sealing the Breach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Part 2! Thanks for making it this far with me. :)
> 
> Part 3, Chapter 1 will be up either tonight (2.23) or tomorrow. It takes place immediately after Part2. We're moving along now since I'm almost finished. Just major edits left.
> 
> Hope you guys are still enjoying. As always, concrit, feedback, funny comments, random discussions etc etc are welcome. See you in Part 3!
> 
> Edited to add:
> 
> Fan art by the insanely talented Besteck. Check out her work here: http://fanartdrawer.tumblr.com/
> 
> I'll post this at the end of Ascension as well once it's done, and she assures me that more awesome is yet to come! :D


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